


A Different Kind of Feeling

by leporidae



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Awkwardness, Beet | Bede-centric, Childhood Trauma, Developing Friendships, Disillusionment, Emotional Baggage, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Gen, Jealousy, M/M, POV Alternating, Post-Canon, Reconciliation, Self-Worth Issues, Snippets, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Victor and Gloria are completely absent from this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:02:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23965084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leporidae/pseuds/leporidae
Summary: Hop wonders if he should apologize.ButBedehas never apologized.Hop clamps his mouth shut.
Relationships: Beet | Bede & Olive | Oleana, Beet | Bede & Onion | Allister, Beet | Bede & Poplar | Opal, Beet | Bede & Rose | Chairman Rose, Beet | Bede & Saitou | Bea, Beet | Bede/Hop, Dande | Leon & Hop, Hop & Sonia (Pokemon), Saitou | Bea/Mary | Marnie, side Dande | Leon/Sonia, very very implied Olive | Oleana/Rose | Chairman Rose
Comments: 37
Kudos: 204





	A Different Kind of Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> Set a few years after the events of SwSh. Bede/Hop/Marnie/Bea are in their late teens, Allister is in his mid teens. The timeline isn't really important, it's just my headcanons and it's not central to the fic, just the way I view the characters.
> 
> If it seems aimless and choppy, that's because it is. I didn't outline, I just wrote what I wanted. There's also a few flashbacks that aren't integrated very seamlessly, which I acknowledge.
> 
> My portrayals are my own catharsis and it doesn't bother me if people disagree with them. Sometimes you just gotta write what you want, you know?

The tournament ends, and the Champion maintains their title. The status quo, as usual, has been maintained. 

_How quaint._

Bede storms through the waiting area with a huff, fists clenched at his sides. This year he had reached the final round, closer than he had ever managed before. There had been cheers throughout the stadium when he faced the Champion. (“Of course they'd cheer for you, my dear,” Opal had said, ruffling his hair, “because you’re an adorable boy and _overwhelmingly_ pink. I amassed quite the fanclub too, back in my prime.”)

Bede doesn’t want a _fanclub._ He wants _victory._

The other Gym Leaders know to give him space amidst his frustration. It’s been five years since he’s officially taken over the Ballonlea Gym from the retired Opal, and his “challenging personality quirks” (as referred to in polite company) are somewhat infamous by now. No one congratulates him for the battle or for making it this far. Instead they leave him be, slowly filtering out of the room until Bede is left alone stewing with his thoughts.

As usual, the ultimate loss is frustrating. Years ago such failure may have ended his career and shattered his self-confidence beyond repair — and years ago no one would have cared. Nowadays, however, his progression as a Gym Leader has become somewhat of a hot topic throughout Galar, even as he tries his best to avoid the sudden baffling spotlight.

(A lot of the gossip comes from young women. Bede chooses to willfully feign ignorance about why that may be.)

Right now, there is most likely a crowd of people standing in the Wyndon Stadium lobby raring to interview him about the battle at their first opportunity. Bede wonders how long he has to stall to wait them out; he’s not really in the mood for exchanging paltry pleasantries about _continuing to work hard in the future_ or whatever motivational bullshit they wish to print about him in a newspaper article.

Something bumps his foot as he stares at the wall — a mask, with blank eyes and an equally hollow expression. Before Bede can think to bend down and pick it up, the hunched figure of another trainer swipes it and straightens hurriedly, fumbling the mask in his hands. Bede spots a rather pained expression on the other young man’s face before he adjusts the mask back over his features.

“S-sorry,” Allister mumbles.

He’s a bit taller than he used to be, and his voice is deeper, but he still exudes the same fragile timidity he had displayed as a grade schooler. And even now as a teenager, he wears those odd masks to hide his face. Bede wonders if that shy behavior carried into adulthood will be healthy for Allister in the long run, but it’s not his place to judge. “It’s fine,” he says, distracted. 

“G-good match,” Allister says. “But also frustrating… I bet.”

The addition surprises him. “Yes,” Bede agrees. “Though I wouldn’t have taken you for the type to get frustrated at a loss.”

Allister is silent for so long that it is only when Bede decides to pack up and go that he finally speaks. “My friends... my Pokemon... like to battle. Their energy… is dark and disappointed when we lose. We all want to win.” One pale finger lifts to tap the bottom of his mask thoughtfully. “Yes… even for me, losing is frustrating.”

Years ago, Allister never would have managed this level of conversation, much less without stammering. “Strength grows after a loss,” Bede says, slinging his bag over one shoulder. “Loathe as I am to admit it.”

Allister nods, slowly. “Y-you and your Pokemon have a very admirable bond, you know.”

“Uh, thank you?”

“B-but, your energy…”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Bede snaps, a bit too hastily, and Allister’s shoulders deflate as his words fade out. “Your concern — and for that matter your pity — is unfounded. I have taken many losses and am no worse for wear.” He pats down his collar. Adjusts the Dynamax band on his left hand. Picks at one sleeve with a finger. “If you have time to worry about me, you should use that energy to focus on your own series of losses. Goodbye.”

He rushes out of the stadium with the urgency of a man fleeing from a specter creeping up his spine and wrapping its tendrils around his body.

“…B-bad,” Allister murmurs from behind him.

Bede pretends not to hear.

* * *

Ballonlea is a beautiful town, Hop thinks — as long as he doesn’t have to go inside the Gym.

But Professor Sonia values transparency in her research; if she sends Hop into the field to study a town, she doesn’t want to go behind the back of its citizens. Just last week Hop had visited Stow-on-Side to borrow a local mythology text from their library. Speaking with Allister, the current Gym Leader, about the matter had been a bit awkward due to the stammering and lack of visible eye contact, but not unpleasant.

The same cannot be said for his experiences with the Ballonlea Gym Leader.

Hop finds him in the lobby of the Gym, speaking to an older woman clad in the Fairy-type Gym uniform, most likely a Trainer working under him. Upon seeing Hop enter the stadium, Bede pointedly inspects his fingernails, and the other trainer dips her head and vanishes. “Hop. What do you need?”

Back when they were kids, when Bede spit his smug poison into Hop’s face with a smirk, the two had stood eye-to-eye. Now, infuriatingly, Hop has to crane his neck to look up at him. (How had that happened — why hadn’t Hop wound up tall like his brother?) Bede had just kept growing and growing, though more upward than anything, like a piece of taffy stretched upwards; he’s tall but lankier than Hop, whose shoulders have begun to fill in like Leon’s.

Bede is not wearing his Gym uniform, but one of his pompous leisure outfits that Hop has only rarely seen him wear, complete with a button down pink shirt, slim white trousers that irritatingly make him look even taller, and sparkly studs in both ears. Apparently his penchant for wearing nice clothes and pretty earrings makes him fairly popular with young female Trainers, though privately Hop thinks there’s no amount of glitter that could salvage the man’s sour demeanor. 

“What do you mean, _what do I need?”_ Hop would like to imagine that he’s matured over the years and clipped his pesky temper. He would also like to imagine that Bede has mellowed out and become less vicious. Both of these hopes are, in fact, true. And yet — Hop still can’t help but feel that familiar bubble of annoyance hearing the other’s naturally-haughty voice. “Sonia sent me over on an errand,” he says carefully. “She asked me to collect samples from —”

“Yes, all right,” Bede interrupts with a wave of his hand. “Do whatever you want.”

“Oi,” Hop growls. “Not even gonna let me finish?”

Bede blinks slowly through those condescendingly long eyelashes of his. “My mistake. Go on.”

Hop grits his teeth. _I don’t need your permission, thanks._ “Samples from — from Glimwood Tangle."

“I see,” Bede says knowingly, which irritates him. “Glimwood Tangle — and Ballonlea, for that matter — are very unique in their flora and fauna. A natural breeding ground for Psychic and Fairy Pokemon, and the luminescent mushrooms are also native to this area. As a Pokemon Professor, I would imagine that there is a fount of interesting phenomena here to study.” 

“Isn’t it enough that you’re a Gym Leader?” Hop snaps, his frustration getting the better of him for an unfortunate moment. “Now you have to play Professor too? _I’m_ the one studying under Sonia — not you!”

Silence stretches out between them, icy as the cobbled roads of Circhester. The burning heat of shame creeps up Hop’s cheeks at his outburst, and Bede has said nothing at all, staring at the floor — which makes it worse. _Just tell me off like you used to,_ Hop pleads silently. But the lull stretches agonizingly, and Bede says nothing, blank.

Hop wonders if he should apologize.

But _Bede_ has never apologized.

Hop clamps his mouth shut.

“It seems I was presumptuous,” Bede says coolly. “Very well. Do what you like, as long as you don’t disturb the Pokemon. Though I suppose I don’t have to tell you that.”

“You don’t,” Hop grits out.

“I’ll escort you, of course.”

He digs his nails into his palms. “I don’t need that, either.”

Obnoxious as ever, Bede rolls his eyes. “It will go faster with someone who knows the forest well. Glimwood Tangle can be a bit precarious to navigate.”

“You don’t think I can handle myself?”

Hop has never before seen a smirk so simultaneously strained and threatening. “Are you determined to push back against everything? I was simply offering you guidance. If you do not wish to take it, then I will leave you to foolishly wander in peace.”

_Thanks, that’s what I was trying to tell you from the beginning_ — oh. Hop bites his tongue as the words retreat back into his mouth at the sight of Bede’s slowly twisting expression, not pompous or dismissive, but genuinely embarrassed. For the first time, Hop reconsiders his own stance. Prior data would suggest Bede is mocking him just as he used to, but maybe, _maybe —_ a precarious thought if there ever was one — this is Bede’s clumsy way of extending a hand to him.

“Okay, maybe you’re right.” The words hurt to utter. “You can come with. After all —” He turns a sly smirk in Bede’s direction. “What if the Fairy-type Pokemon in the forest like me more than you? Then I’ll have to take over as the Ballonlea Gym Leader instead.”

Bede’s cheeks puff out indignantly. “As if that would ever happen. For someone who’s supposed to be a future Pokemon Professor, you’re quite the imbecile. Come now, before you waste another moment of my time.”

The brief flash of relief across Bede’s face is not lost on Hop.

He’s not sure how to feel.

* * *

_The Chairman’s visiting the orphanage today, so stay out of the way._

_You better stay in your room. Don’t ruin this for the rest of us._

_He won’t like you. You’ll make the rest of us look bad._

“Your name is Bede, isn’t it?”

Bede doesn’t respond. He looks up at the Chairman with dark eyes and disheveled hair, absently thumbing the dried blood on his knuckles. “He insulted me.”

“Hmm?”

“The other boy.” This is Chairman Rose — _the_ Chairman Rose! — he’s speaking to. He shouldn’t be making excuses for his behavior, shouldn’t be acting so disgraceful. But the defensive words spill out nonetheless, even as Bede fears his one opportunity to be recognized by his idol is slipping away. “They’re always insulting me. They say no one likes me. And I’ll never get anywhere, because if no one likes me, no one will ever adopt me.”

Rose smiles gently. Bede can’t tell if it’s sympathetic or condescending. “He insulted you, so you hit him?”

A nod.

Rather than tell him off, Rose says something that surprises him. “I understand the need to defend yourself. You know —” He crouches down, lowering his voice almost secretively. “I got into my fair share of fights when I was a child, too.”

“Really?” Bede says, skeptical. “You? But you’re so…” He struggles to find the right word. “Important?”

Rose chuckles. “I wasn’t born important — no one is. I was a kid with fanciful ideas and opinions no one seemed to care about. Perhaps that sounds familiar?”

His lips purse together in a pout. “Sounds like me,” Bede mutters. “Why are you telling me this?”

The Chairman straightens up, brushing his coat to smooth the wrinkles. “You’re competitive, are you not? With that attitude, you’d make a good Pokemon Trainer.”

“Really?” The words come out in a squeak. Since when has Bede ever relied on the affirmation of others to get by? His peers don’t like him, and he doesn’t have anyone else. But this isn’t just _anyone;_ it’s Chairman Rose of the Galar Pokemon League. Chairman Rose, head of Macro Cosmos, whose technology and infrastructure practically shaped the Galar Region singlehanded. Perhaps Rose is telling the truth, and he hadn’t been important at Bede’s age. But he’s important _now._

Someone _important_ thinks that Bede would be _good_ at something.

“Really,” Rose repeats, and gives Bede the nicest smile he’s ever seen.

“B-but — I’ve never had experience with Pokemon,” Bede mumbles, and as he utters the words, shame washes over him. Surely admitting such a humiliating deficiency to the man who literally heads the Pokemon League will change his mind in an instant.

The Chairman just laughs. “It’s never too late to gain experience, Young Bede. With the right push, I believe you could become something truly great.”

Bede swallows.

“You don’t get along with the other children,” Rose says, so direct, and Bede flinches. “That’s quite all right. You’re not obligated to like everyone. But it’s important to try to get along, even if you don’t like them.”

“Why?”

If the Chairman finds his question immature, his unwavering smile doesn’t show it. “Because that’s how the world works,” he says, almost apologetically. “I’ll let you in on a little secret.”

Bede inches closer.

“I don’t get along with everyone I work with, either. But I still smile at them and try to compromise. You know why? Because people are complicated, Bede. If you pick fights with everyone you meet because they don’t agree with you, or don’t like you, then you’ll never get ahead. You’ll never make change in the world.”

Bede thinks of the children who ruthlessly laugh at his fluffy hair, who break toys in the orphanage with their clumsy hands and blame him; the children who trash his room and trip him and jeer that he’ll never be adopted. Just the thought of smiling pleasantly at those people makes bile rise in his throat. How does Chairman Rose manage it so effortlessly? He must be so strong. “But…” _But what?_ Rose is right. Of course he’s right.

“I’d like to introduce you to a friend,” Rose says. The words are light, with a wondrous air of mystery. “Someone who may help you grow. But she’s very shy. Do you think you can promise me that you will remain calm so as not to scare her, Young Bede?”

“I — yes, I promise.”

* * *

Bede watches Hop’s curious face glow gently in the low light of Glimwood Tangle.

Several years ago, Leon’s younger brother had become somewhat of a living legend in the Galar Region. People called him the “second coming of the Hero” when he calmed Zacian from its powerful rampage using words of encouragement alone and later even caught it in an unheard of display of trust. His knack for bonding with Pokemon had since become infamous.

Most of this knowledge comes from hearsay. Bede has barely interacted with Hop since becoming a Gym Leader; for that matter, these days he rarely even leaves Ballonlea save for running errands and participating in tournaments.

Right now Hop is collecting samples from forest's flora. It’s well known that Glimwood Tangle has a mysterious “life energy” that thrums through its veins and affects the Pokemon living there, but the nature of said energy remains largely unresearched. Professor Sonia, whose hands are full updating the Galar Region's historical texts and records of its mythology, has apparently delegated the legwork of this task to Hop, who seems to prefer working in the field to poring over research papers in a laboratory.

The scientific basis behind Glimwood Tangle’s effect doesn’t interest Bede much, but he does know that his Pokemon feel comfortable here. As Hop painstakingly scrapes a sample of luminescent material from the underside of a large mushroom, Bede takes out the Poke Ball containing his Rapidash and sets him loose. Rapidash snorts happily as his mane begins to glow.

Hop seals the plastic bag in his hands and stands to face them. “Hello, Rapidash. Feels good to be here where all your family was born, huh?” Rapidash whinnies in affirmation, and Bede runs an absent hand through his Pokemon’s mane, trying not to think about how Rapidash knows his own birthplace where Bede does not. “Oh, hey — that’s right. This is the only place in the world where Galarian Ponyta are found. In the rest of the world, they’re Fire-types, but something about this place made them change their typing entirely.”

“I know that,” Bede says testily. “Opal grilled me needlessly about this place during her Gym training. I could recite every species of Pokemon found here in my sleep. What’s your point, exactly?”

Hop rolls his eyes. “Oi, let me finish. I was going to ask if it would be all right if I took a tiny sample of his mane back to analyze. Just a few strands of fur would be enough, but since that’s where Ponyta and Rapidash store its psychic energy —”

_I know that, too._ “Yes, yes, that’s acceptable.” While Hop splutters with indignation at the interruption, Bede places a palm on Rapidash’s flank. “He’s very mellow and likes to be petted. He should shed some fur that way, too. I would suggest keeping your sample to that — he won’t like it if you trim it off.” A huff from his Pokemon next to him affirms his words. "You risk being kicked quite painfully if you do."

“Okay, I’ll be careful,” Hop agrees, moving to place a careful hand on Rapidash’s mane, and the Pokemon’s eyes flutter shut contentedly as Hop begins to stroke him. “Sounds like Opal’s training was real rough, huh? What was it like?”

_I don’t owe you an explanation._ These days Bede at least has developed the foresight to quash some of his sarcasm before it exits his mouth. “My training? Nightmarish, really. Miss Opal is dreadfully eccentric and loves administering her quizzes at the most inconvenient of times. Nothing like waking up early in the morning with her face looming over you like a grinning phantasm. _'_ _What’s my favorite color?'_ I swear I nearly suffered several heart attacks under her tutelage.”

Hop laughs. “I still remember getting that one wrong during my Gym Challenge. I thought she liked pink for sure, but she actually prefers purple, doesn’t she?”

“Yes, she does.” Unpleasantly Bede is forced to remember that he was never allowed past the fourth Gym during his own Gym Challenge. “She says pink is the quality she likes to see in other people. Not just the color — the _quality._ As I said, eccentric.”

“And you?”

“Hmm?”

“Your favorite color.”

It throws Bede. He hadn’t expected a personal question, because those come from personal interest in _him._ “Pink, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Hop repeats with a grin. “I’m more of a purple guy, myself.” What are they even talking about anymore? The conversation is so casual, so _pointless,_ that it makes Bede’s skin prickle uncomfortably. “Do you still use your other Pokemon? Reuniclus, and… Gothitelle?”

That Hop remembers his old teammates at all surprises him. Bede hadn’t used either of those Pokemon in public matches since he had taken up the mantle of Gym Leader. “They’re around, of course. I would hardly abandon my Pokemon simply because my trajectory has shifted. However, I prefer to stick strictly to Fairy-types during the Gym Challenge, in the spirit of the Ballonlea Gym.”

Hop looks pensive. “You really care about your Pokemon, huh?”

“Of course I do.” Bede bristles. “What do you take me for?”

“No need to get so defensive, mate,” Hop says. “Just commenting.” With one final pat he removes his hand from Rapidash’s mane. A few strands of purple fur cling to his fingers, which he seals in a separate plastic bag. “Thanks for the samples. I think I’ve got what I need now and can go back.”

“Oh.” Shouldn’t he be happy this conversation came to a sudden halt? Hop is a nuisance, after all. “Well, I’m glad your experience here was satisfactory.”

“’Satisfactory?’ What, should I leave a review in the Ballonlea Stadium guest book?” Hop scoffs, but continues before Bede can reply with something equally snarky. “Oh, speaking of guests, my mum’s having a get together at our place next weekend. Apparently Leon and Sonia sent out a bunch of invites to all the Gym Leaders yesterday. Just letting you know you should look out for that in your mailbox.”

“And?”

Hop blinks. “And what?”

“Do you honestly expect me to show up to such an event?”

His frown deepens. “You really wanna avoid socializing that badly, huh? I guess I can’t stop you.”

“No, I —” It’s not about that, not exactly. There’s _expectations_ at social gatherings, ones that Bede has never been good at fulfilling; expectations to be charming and engage in small talk, to smile and get along and _fit in._ But letting Hop think that he, Bede, the man who faces everything head-on without a care for the opinions of others, is being _avoidant_ — well, that would be simply unacceptable. “Very well. I will _consider_ making an appearance.”

Hop scoffs. “Blessing us with your presence after all, huh? I would be _honored.”_

Bede severely doubts that.

* * *

Halfway through the week, Sonia and Hop receive Bede’s RSVP in the mail.

“Oh, Bede’s coming after all,” Sonia says casually as she tosses the card aside on the table, and Hop’s heart lurches. “That’s odd. I thought he’d decline the invite for sure. Did you convince him when you were there?”

“Uh, no?” _Had_ he accidentally convinced Bede to come? Hop had mentioned the party to be polite, but he hadn’t felt strongly about the result one way or the other. “I mean, I brought it up? I don’t know why he decided to come.”

_But he’s coming after all. How peculiar._

Later that night, Hop’s dreams border on the absurd.

_(Run the important errand,_ Sonia insists. _Leon told you, right?_

Hop has no idea what she’s talking about, but nods mutely. If he doesn’t know, he could lose his job, and Leon will make him take the Gym Challenge again.

He steps outside the Pokemon Lab into Glimwood Tangle, the green light of luminescent mushrooms reflecting off his lab coat and a herd of Wooloo passing by. _I didn’t know Wooloo was native to this area,_ Hop muses. _I’ll have to ask my Dubwool if that’s really true._

On the ground at his feet lies Opal’s umbrella. _That’s odd,_ Hop thinks. _I should give that back to her._

“Don’t touch that.” Hop looks up to see that Bede has practically materialized before him. “Well?”

“Well what?” Hop echoes. “I didn’t say anything.”

“It’s a quiz,” Bede says, brow furrowing with frustration. “Well? What’s your answer?”

_Did he ask me something?_ “Uh, my answer is yes?”

Silence.

“Am I right?”)

Hop wakes up irritated.

* * *

_After leaving the Galar region and traveling the world the past several years, Galar’s controversial former Chairman has returned with new, fresh innovations regarding Galar’s energy crisis and the future of the region._

_Excuse me, Mr. Rose? Do you have a moment to answer a few questions?_

_Paparazzi to greet me at the airport? Haha — it almost feels like old days, doesn’t it, Oleana?_

_Excuse us. Mr. Rose is quite busy at the moment. Perhaps he will be able to answer your questions another day. Come, now — we have to catch our Flying Taxi._

“That’s just like her,” Bede mutters. “He’d never get anything done if she wasn’t pushing him along. He'd just stand there signing autographs until his hand fell off.”

All at once, the television switches off.

“Hey, what —”

Standing behind him with the remote is Opal, a stern expression on her face and one hand perched dangerously on her hip. The anger dies quickly in Bede’s throat to be replaced with shame, as though he has just been caught with his hand in the metaphorical cookie jar.

Opal sighs. “Why are you tormenting yourself with this?”

“I — I hardly know what you mean.”

She moves towards the sofa with an even longer sigh, planting herself on the adjacent couch cushion. “Following Rose’s return so closely surely isn’t healthy for your mental well being. And yet, you’re doing it anyway.”

“Well, I’m — I’m simply watching the news, as we all do. No more or less closely than anyone else.”

She watches him hawkishly, beak of a nose and all. “Does knowing the excruciating details make you feel better?”

“Not really,” Bede admits, because it’s Opal; even if he tried to lie she would never believe him. He can never escape her gaze that sees through him unnervingly, more than anyone he’s ever met, and sometimes Bede childishly wonders if there actually is some form of magic involved in her unsettling omniscience.

Opal sighs sternly. “No need to purposely inundate yourself with that poison. You have your job as Gym Leader to focus on. And as an aside, don't you have a party to attend this weekend? Have you picked out your outfit?”

Bede flushes. “I can dress myself, Miss Opal,” he mutters. “It’s not even a formal event, so I’ve already narrowed my choices down to — you don’t need to know what I’m wearing! I'm not a child!” Realizing he’s fallen into her trap, he stands quickly, hands balled into fists at his sides. 

Her impish laughter chases after him as he storms away.

* * *

Bede thanks the driver of the Flying Taxi upon landing in Postwick and watches the Corviknight's silhouette recede on the horizon before making his way to the house of Hop’s family.

Gatherings of this scale are bothersome, but it would have been rude to refuse, especially since all the other Gym Leaders will be there and it would be strange if he were the only one absent. Making an appearance is simply a requirement for maintaining normalcy as an active member of the Pokemon League. If not for that, he would have spent his day off at home in a sweatshirt, one hand cupped around a mug of warm tea and the other petting his Sylveon curled up in his lap. Instead he is dressed in one of his nicest button down shirts and has the misfortune of being _here,_ knocking stiffly on Hop’s door with a gradually increasing sense of dread.

“I didn’t actually think you’d come,” Hop says when he opens the door, cheerful but guarded. Bede can’t tell if he’s happy about or disappointed by his appearance, but he has no desire to ask for clarification. “My brother didn't think you'd show either. Said you weren't one for public appearances.”

“I’m a Gym Leader,” Bede replies curtly, eyes drifting from Hop’s piercing gaze to the suddenly captivating door frame. “I believe all the Gym Leaders were invited to attend this event, no? My appearance here is a professional obligation.”

Hop snorts. “You need to learn to relax a little, mate. It’s just a party. Are you going to come in or not? It’s a little drafty with the door open.”

Bede steps past him with a huff, slipping off his shoes at the entrance and unzipping his pink overcoat. 

“Want me to take that for you?”

For whatever reason, the thought of accepting the help is extremely distasteful. “No,” Bede snaps, holding the coat close to his chest. “Don’t touch my stuff. I’ll put it away myself.”

The polite grin begins to slip off Hop’s face. “We’re stashing the extra stuff in Lee’s room,” he says. “It’s upstairs. I can —”

“I’ll find it myself.” His chest feels constricted suddenly, watching Hop grow less and less pleased with him, watching the familiar distaste overtake the kindness. Bede is very familiar with that unfriendly expression; he’s seen it on the face of everyone he’s ever talked to. “Unlike your brother, I don’t get lost at every turn.”

Leaving Hop stunned into an open-mouthed silence, Bede turns and storms away from him towards the staircase. Where had he said they were keeping the coats? Ah yes. _Lee's room._ How casually Hop refers to his older brother — how close the two of them are! And then there's Bede, who has no idea what that's like; it's like Hop is speaking another language entirely, referring to his family so casually, and Bede is just expected to _understand,_ because only a real freak wouldn't be able to comprehend the concept of family.

He doesn’t know why this is so hard. Hop’s family had been on the television plenty of times with Leon, and it hadn’t bothered him from afar. But now, faced with the reality of a warm household, complete with kind parents and siblings who banter and love each other unconditionally…

Bede feels a bit sick.

Without warning, the smiling face of Rose resurfaces in his mind, and he recalls that brief fantasy of his childhood he had worked so hard to bury, that unrealistic hope that the Chairman would see so much potential in him that he would adopt Bede with all the pride of a real parent. The sudden memory is shameful; angry tears sting the corners of his eyes, and Bede clenches his jaw. What a foolish child he’d been. 

What a foolish child he still _is,_ mooning over the family of another person.

* * *

Hop waits for Bede to come back downstairs, but he never does.

He's not even sure why it bothers him. There’s plenty of much nicer, _much_ more tolerable people at this party who Hop would much rather talk to. And he does: he greets Raihan, who immediately snaps several selfies with him from various angles; he says hello to the permanently tired Piers, who is hunched in a corner of the kitchen drinking punch from a pink plastic cup; he waves at Gordie, whose face is gradually reddening as Melony embarrasses him in front of Kabu. 

After each encounter, Hop’s gaze drifts back to the staircase, expecting the return of someone who isn’t there. On some level, it infuriates him that he's worried at all. It had been clear from the moment Bede stepped through the front door that he wanted nothing to do with any of them. If Hop is going to spend energy caring about someone, the least they could do is _pretend_ to return the sentiment.

“Hey, Hop. Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout?”

Hop turns to see Marnie, who has appeared beside him with a tiny wave. “Oh, it’s — uh, nothing. Glad to see you here, though.”

Marnie fiddles with the choker around her neck. “Thanks for invitin’ us. I don’t think me and Piers are very good at parties,” she adds a bit shyly, “but everyone’s been real nice. Say, I gotta find your mom and thank her for hostin’ us, too.”

“We’re glad to have you,” Hop says, distracted. “Say, uh — you’re a Gym Leader too, right?”

“'Too?'” Marnie raises an eyebrow. “Um, yeah? Whaddya need?”

_How do I ask this without sounding completely mental?_ “Are you and Bede, uh, close?”

“Sorry?”

“I mean —” He’s kicking himself for opening his stupid mouth. “Do you know him well? He was acting weird, and just kinda… stormed off. I was wondering if you, um, had any idea if something was going on with him. From a... Gym Leader perspective?”

Marnie blinks. “Um… we talk a little, when the Gym Challenge is going on and such. Let’s see… oh, he asked ‘bout my Grimmsnarl once, ‘cause there are a lotta Impidimp and Morgrem in Glimwood Tangle, I guess. It was just sorta a polite conversation, though. I don’t think he really likes showin’ up at big events. Maybe that’s it? He didn't say anythin' to me, if that's what you're askin'.”

Furrowing his brow, Hop wonders if that’s really all there is to it. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. Well, I guess I’ll go find him and talk to him, then. Sorry for bothering you with that.”

She shakes her head. “Nah, I worry ‘bout him too. He doesn’t seem real close with anybody. Well, ‘cept Miss Opal, I guess.”

“Thanks, Marnie,” Hop says. "It's probably nothing, anyway."

“G’luck,” she says, tilting her head to the side.

Hop hardly registers her words, his body already climbing the stairs before his mind has consciously caught up to the decision. At the top of the staircase Sonia and Nessa are chatting, and he waves on his way to Leon’s room, too distracted to greet them properly. But Bede isn’t there like he expected, and neither is his coat.

Maybe Bede got his room confused with Leon’s somehow — though considering how unapologetically _Leon_ his brother’s room is, complete with his snapback collection on display on the wall, Hop seriously doubts such a mix up is even possible. Still, it wouldn't hurt to check. But to his surprise, when he crosses the hall to his own bedroom, Hop finds Bede sitting on his bed after all, staring at his hands folded in his lap.

“Er, party’s downstairs,” Hop says, not sure how to feel. Bede coming into his room and lurking there without permission feels like an invasion of privacy somehow. But when Bede turns his head to look at him, there’s something oddly charged in his expression, like a threatened Manetric with its hackles bristling. “Also, um, this is _my_ room?” 

“I know.”

_You’re sure not making this conversation easy._ “I know you didn’t really wanna come in the first place,” Hop says, “but, uh — it’d be nice if you came downstairs a bit. Just say hi to some people, and then you can just go if you want?” Bede doesn’t answer, doesn’t even give Hop any indication that he’s heard. “It’s okay not to like parties,” Hop tries again gently, mustering the remainder of his patience and sympathy. He takes a step forward and places a nervous hand on Bede’s shoulder. If this were anyone else, Hop would offer to sit down and lend an ear. But Bede historically has never liked him — maybe tolerated him at best, on a good day — and he would most likely consider such an offer condescending. “Uh, you don’t have to stay, I guess. I’ll tell Sonia for you, if you wanna go. It's not a big deal.”

Bede raises his hand.

Hop expects his gesture to be brushed off. 

Instead, Bede swings at him. 

Pain snaps through his jaw when the fist clips him. Hop gapes slack jawed in disbelief at the glowering Bede, frozen in place with his arm outstretched. He waits for an explanation. He receives none.

Hop launches himself at Bede.

It’s petty and immature to continue this nonsense past the first strike. Neither of them are children anymore, Hop knows all this — and yet his body moves with all the unbridled impulsivity he’s always had. Bede jerks his arm up to block the punch, and suddenly the two are scrabbling on the floor like a Zangoose and Seviper, completely at the mercy of a heated flush of fighting instinct. One moment Bede is kneeing him in the gut, smashing the wind from his lungs; in the next, Hop has slammed his fist against Bede’s face, splitting his lip open in a spray of blood that splatters his knuckles. Coherent thought is out of the question as the two attack each other without finesse or reason. Shamefully, it almost feels cathartic to administer the beatdown with no thought or reason behind it.

“Oi, what’s all this?”

The familiar voice sends an icy chill through Hop, and he grows still. Beneath him, Bede has also stopped moving, though his chest still heaves silently with desperate breaths.

“Er, Sonia —”

“You two get up right now!”

Hop scrabbles to his feet to face Sonia — his _boss,_ he remembers unpleasantly — who looms before him with a horrified expression and hands perched judgmentally on her waist. Shame burns his cheeks as he struggles to maintain eye contact.

Bede too rises, a line of blood oozing from his lip to his chin as he stares, dazed, at the floor.

“I know you two have never gotten along super well,” Sonia says, “but this is absolutely too much. He was our guest, Hop — apologize right this instant!”

A flare of anger rises in his gut; Hop’s bloody fingers clench into fists. “What are you, my mom? This party may have been yours and Lee’s idea, but it’s still my house!”

It’s foolish to goad Sonia’s patience like this, but rather than respond to Hop, she — annoyingly — ignores his words and turns instead to Bede. “I’m so sorry, Bede. This turned into a right mess. Since Hop refuses to apologize, I’ll —”

“Apologize for what?” Bede says dully, surprising them both. “I hit him first. Anyway, I should — I should be going. Thank you for inviting me, Professor Sonia.”

Sonia is too bewildered to respond in time as Bede ducks past them and slips out the door, and by the time she turns back to Hop, Bede has already vanished downstairs and most likely fled out the front door. “Oi, Hop.”

Hop swallows. “Yeah?”

“What the hell was that?”

“He asked for it,” Hop blurts, and Sonia’s expression darkens.

Oh, there’ll be _so much_ hell to pay later, that much is for sure.

* * *

“The other kids left. I promise I won’t yell anymore. Could you come out already?”

Hattena, huddled underneath his bed frame, begins shuffling forward nervously. Bede holds his breath, careful not to make any sudden movement or feel too excited prematurely. Any sudden swell of emotions will scare her away.

It has been a week since Chairman Rose visited the orphanage, and the Pokemon Bede had been gifted is still extremely skittish around him. The other kids jeer at him more than ever now, jealous that the Chairman had favored him. Despite Bede feeling smug about the preferential treatment, Hattena still runs from him every time he raises his voice at the others. To pacify her, he’s been forced to disengage with his peers where he otherwise would have fought back without a moment’s hesitation. 

Changing his habits has been difficult, but Bede is determined not to fail Chairman Rose’s test. After all, the Chairman had said the two of them would help each other grow. Bede doesn’t want to prove him wrong.

The Pokemon’s feet tap softly against the carpet as she approaches him. Bede tries his best to keep his mind clear and calm so her psychic sensitivity doesn’t pick up on his nerves. Though she still seems a bit fearful, she is at least advancing. He lets out his breath quietly and shifts to sit cross legged on the carpet, tapping the floor in what he hopes is an encouraging gesture, and after a moment’s hesitation Hattena pads over the rest of the way and settles herself in her lap.

Bede pats her head gently, letting out a sigh of relief. “There we go,” he murmurs. “I’m not that bad, I promise.”

In response she makes a sound a bit like a soft jingle, nestling further into his arms.

“There’s no need to be afraid of the others,” Bede reassures her. “They’re all talk. And they don’t have any issue with you, just me. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you, okay?”

Hattena jingles again, even quieter, and Bede can tell she’s relaxing. It should set Bede’s mind at ease, and yet all he feels is a pang of loneliness.

_This poor Pokemon,_ he thinks, _stuck with a Trainer like me._

“I’ll protect you,” Bede reassures her — or himself? — once again. “I promise.”

* * *

When Bede returns to his quarters that evening, his Hatterene is giving him a dangerous look, waving the tendril of her hat as though raring to wallop him. 

“I’m a little wound up, all right? No need to reprimand me — I’m quite aware how I’m feeling at the moment.”

Hatterene whines softly.

Bede sighs and flops face first onto his bed, fully aware his behavior at the party had been childish. Those few minutes where his mind had shut down are not much more than a hazy blur in his memories now. At a certain point, Hop had approached him and was reassuring him of something or other, some show of pity Bede didn’t want and hadn’t listened to — and then Bede had moved on his own as though possessed by the spirit of his own lingering childhood where he thrashed the problems he didn’t want to face.

His lip is still tender from where Hop had split the skin with his fist, and though he can feel his own pulse throbbing in the scab, he refrains from running his tongue over the rivet of it; he ought to show at least _that_ much restraint.

He’s exhausted. The party, the fighting, _Hop_ — everything is exhausting, bothersome, a circular loop of pestering thoughts over and over that he just wants to _go away._ Bede wills his body to sleep, but the rest he chases is just as exhausting as his wakeful state. He dreams, and in his dream Bede is participating in a rigorous test run by the Chairman, though his dream consciousness isn’t quite certain of the details. There are other kids there, a sea of shapeless faces he doesn’t recognize, but Bede is the most obedient of them all and receives the most accolades. He feels like _the chosen one_ , though he doesn’t know what he’s being chosen _for,_ and a woman who looks nothing like Oleana — but still is her somehow, in that way the dream self just _knows_ — is assessing him with a stony expression all the while. And always just out of his view is another faceless child, someone he recognizes but doesn’t know, someone who understands him. For the first time, regardless of how much he's favored here, Bede wants to flee this place.

There’s a knock on his door.

Bede sits bolt upright in his bed, grabbing his Rotom Phone off the bedside table to check the time. It’s past two in the morning — who in the world would be bothering him at this hour? Is he being robbed? Visited by a stalker, perhaps? With a groan he shuffles out of his bed and makes his way to the front door of his apartment, feeling more inconvenienced than afraid.

The sight he sees through the peephole only serves to confuse him further. He opens the door with a yawn. “Allister? What in the world are you doing at this hour?”

“Is — is this a bad time?”

Bede gapes. “Seriously? In what universe is this hour ever a _good time_ to visit?”

Allister adjusts his mask with shaking hands. “U-um. I’m sorry, I — I’m usually awake at this hour anyway… I forgot you’d probably be sleeping.”

_How does one just forget that?! What a baffling person._ “I suppose you can come in if you really need something,” Bede grumbles, “but I do intend to go back to sleep shortly. So keep it brief.”

Allister nods. Hunched over in his dark clothes with an aura of pervasive gloom, he looks entirely out of place in Bede’s very pristine, very pink apartment, like a stray horror novel shelved in the wrong section of the library.

“Would you like some tea?”

He shakes his head. “Please… don’t go to any special effort for me.”

“I can make some if you want some,” Bede says, a little annoyed.

Allister continues shaking his head.

“Water?”

“...Water is fine.”

As Bede retreats to the kitchen with a sigh, Allister takes a seat on the sofa, fingers twitching in his lap. _If you’re this uncomfortable here, why did you even come?_ Bede thinks in his sleepy and irritable haze as he fills the glass at the sink. 

“Drink,” he growls, handing Allister the glass upon returning to the living room. “And tell me why you’re here.”

Through the hole in his mask, Allister takes a very loud gulp of water that he chokes on, and Bede is forced to watch him splutter and cough for at least thirty seconds before responding. “Was worried,” he finally manages just as Bede is beginning to worry Allister is actually dying. “At the party. You… were giving off _extra_ bad energy. Worse than before.”

“Oh, you were there,” Bede remarks, only vaguely remembering seeing Allister and Bea off in a corner somewhere during that debacle. “I have to ask, what exactly do you mean by ‘bad energy?’”

He taps one fingernail against the glass. “Mm, um… it’s hard to say. It’s just… a sense. Are you… okay?”

Despite having grown significantly taller in his adolescent years, Allister looks so small as he tilts his head up nervously at Bede, and Bede softens. Sure, this is the wrong time of night for a visit, and Allister isn’t very good at conversation, but — he’s _trying_ , genuinely, and Bede can see that. (Also, if he's not patient with Allister, it's possible the Ghost-type Gym Leader might inflict a curse on him.) “I appreciate the concern, but truly, there’s no need to worry about me.”

“I don’t… have any family, either.”

The sudden words surprise Bede, and he clamps his mouth shut as his heart pounds with a fresh wave of anxiety. How did he know that's what had been bothering Bede? Is he that obvious with his feelings? The thought makes him sick.

“It’s always just been… me, and my Pokemon. I don’t remember life with my parents… one day, they were gone. I saw it happen, but my mind… it doesn’t want to remember.” To Bede’s surprise, Allister removes his mask with a shaking hand, glancing up at him with tired eyes. “My Pokemon are my family. But even I wonder… what it would be like… to have my real…”

“Allister?” The Ghost-type trainer’s gaze drops to his lap. Bede takes a breath. “You’ve made your point, but you don’t have to speak of it any more, all right? There’s no need to make yourself suffer on my behalf.”

Allister’s lower lip quivers. “Ah, um… th-thanks. M’sorry, I don’t know how to make people feel better…”

Bede scoots over to sit closer to Allister and places a palm gingerly on his shoulder. He immediately regrets the gesture, not sure what words to say to follow it up. “That’s not your responsibility.” When Allister’s gaze clouds over, Bede quickly adds, “but your efforts are enough. I’m just… not quite sure what to say.”

Allister twiddles his thumbs in his lap. “Mm.”

Bede expects more, but Allister falls silent, leaving nothing to fill the silence but the awkward sound effects of gulping down water too quickly. He sets the cup down quickly when it’s empty, fumbles his mask back over his pale face, and stumbles jerkily towards the front door, arms limp like a broken puppet.

“That’s all?” Bede blinks.

“Yeah, sorry,” Allister mumbles, and without so much as a goodbye ducks out of the apartment and closes the door behind him.

Bede runs a hand through his hair with a sigh, wondering if he imagined the entire encounter.

* * *

“R-really? You’re going to sponsor my Gym Challenge?”

The words squeak out far less dignified than Bede had hoped; his left hand grabs nervously at the oversized watch dangling from his wrist, thumbing the plated gold band.

Rose simply smiles and hands him the letter. Behind him stands a rather bored-looking Oleana, lidded eyes trained on him with their usual judgment. She doesn’t flinch, not even when Bede fumbles the paper in his fingers, suddenly fearful of the Chairman’s weighty expectations.

“Are you sure this is all right?” Bede tries again at a lower octave. “If I participate in the Gym Challenge, it may be more difficult to collect Wishing Stars for you as quickly…”

“Don’t worry about that,” Rose says, shaking his head. “You’ve been doing great work for me, but you would do well to participate. It's in your nature to compete, Young Bede. Does the thought not excite you?”

It does, of course. “Mr. Chairman, I…”

“Do your best,” Rose says with a smile. “For the future of Galar.”

_But I don’t care about Galar,_ Bede wants to say. _I want to make_ you _proud._

Instead he merely nods.

* * *

“You should go apologize to Bede.”

Sonia wastes no time confronting Hop as soon as he enters the Pokemon Research Lab. To add insult to injury, she doesn’t even turn to face him as she says it, simply drumming her fingernails on her desk a little louder as she pores over the draft of her latest novel’s manuscript.

“But he started it!”

Sonia heaves a heavy sigh. “Listen to yourself — you sound just like a child. It doesn’t _matter_ who started it, because the two of you made a huge scene at the party either way, and as the host you should have known better than to beat up your guests."

_Weren't_ you _the host?_

"I can’t force you to go,” she adds when Hop opens his mouth to protest, “but it would be good of you. Be the bigger person.”

_I’d have to grow a few inches first,_ Hop thinks sourly. “Sure, yeah.” He doesn’t like it, but it’s imperative that he get Sonia off his case before she discusses it with Leon and they have a good laugh at his expense. If that happens, Leon will tease him mercilessly about the fight; he never lets anything go, even when Hop begs him to forget it. "I'll go take care of it right now. You're right," he adds to placate her, slinging his bag over one shoulder as he walks out the door. "Don't get too lonely while I'm gone, Professor."

"Mm." And just like that she has returned to her own work, completely ignoring Hop amidst her focus, which only stings a little.

It’s only after Hop has taken the Flying Taxi to Ballonlea that he realizes he has no idea where Bede actually lives. He tries the Gym first, but he's not there, which becomes immediately clear when he walks through the sliding door and is greeted by a cluster of older women in Fairy-type uniforms. He spies Opal amongst them, and that’s as good of a place to start as any.

“Hi, Miss Opal,” Hop says nervously. Her signature umbrella hooked around her wrist, the dignified way with which she carries herself, the slightly mischievous smirk on her face at all times — all these qualities add to her mystery, which in turn makes her a tad intimidating. “Is — is Bede not at the Stadium?”

“Oh, so you didn’t come just to see me? Such impudence from today’s youth,” Opal says, chuckling as soon as Hop begins to splutter in protest. “No need to get so flustered. It’s not as though I’m going to put a curse on you. Most likely.” Her smile melts into something a little kinder. “Just the ramblings of a batty old woman. But regarding Bede, I’m reassured knowing he has others his age who worry about him, especially considering I won’t always… well, that’s enough depressing talk for one day.”

Hop swallows.

“He’s most likely in his apartment,” Opal continues nonchalantly as though she hadn’t just veered into incredibly morbid territory, “if he’s not here. He’s been holing up in his room a lot more frequently these days.” She sighs. “Granted, we haven’t had many challengers lately anyway, but if we did I’m sure he’d pull himself together. You may wonder why I’m telling you any of this.”

“Er — yeah, a bit?” Hop admits.

Of course, typical of her cryptic nature she leaves his question unanswered. “If you give me your Rotom Phone, I can put in his address.”

“Are you sure he’d be okay with me just… showing up?” Hop asks. He’s having a difficult time tracking this conversation, and he has a feeling Opal is messing with him on purpose.

She shrugs. “He’s a temperamental boy, that one. Even I can’t predict what he would and wouldn’t be okay with.” With well-manicured fingers she takes the phone Hop holds out to her and punches in text faster than Hop would have thought possible for someone of her generation. “Let me know if he mouths off to you,” she adds with one of her signature witchy grins. “I’ll give him a stern talking-to.”

“Um, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Hop says, unable to shake the feeling that she and Bede are in cahoots somehow. “Thanks, Miss Opal.”

* * *

Even during the daytime, Ballonlea is shrouded in a strange canopy of darkness, tall glowing mushrooms illuminating the trunks of even taller trees. Every time Hop visits he feels he’s stepped into the pages of a child's storybook, as though he'll take one step into the forest and be lost for eternity, or be spirited away by an errant Hatterene. It may even be charming if it wasn't so unsettling.

Bede’s apartment is on the third floor of one of the only multistory buildings in the town, though the outside looks much the same as the other houses, quaint a bit rural. The rest of the hall is dead silent as Hop knocks, and he can’t help but glance about as his agitated imagination gets the better of him, waiting for a shadowy hand to whisk him him away into a Fairy-type nightmare realm.

The door swings open to reveal a scowling Bede, lip scabbed over and arms folded across his chest judgmentally in a lavender sweater, and Hop’s wild fancy lurches to a halt. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Hey,” Hop says. He can practically feel his soul clamoring to leave his body, not from dark magic but from the sheer awkwardness of this situation. With what willpower he can muster he keeps the strained smile steady on his face. “Uh. How’re you doing?”

“You’re joking, right?” Bede rolls his eyes. “You obviously don’t want to be here — you’re not a very good actor. I would know, Miss Opal trained me." 

"If I didn't want to be here, why would I... be here?" Hop refutes lamely.

"What an intelligent comeback, I'm shaking in my boots. Did your boss send you here to beg for my forgiveness?”

Hop bristles. “I can think for myself,” he says, despite the truth of Bede’s words. “It just seemed a bad place to leave off, but obviously you don’t wanna face what happened.” Despite trying in good faith to smooth this over, the confrontational accusation escapes him nonetheless.

“We beat each other up. There, I faced it. What more do you want from me?” Before Hop can spit a retort and stomp off, Bede adds, “Are you going to come in or just stand here letting in a draft?”

“I didn’t know I was being invited in.”

He sighs dramatically, ushering Hop inside with a dismissive hand. “Since you’ve wasted both our time coming here, I may as well make you some tea.”

Hop tilts his head. “Is this your attempt at manners?” This isn’t how this was supposed to go — Hop was supposed to _apologize,_ for goodness sake — but the jeer comes out nonetheless. “That's new.”

He wholly expects a repeat of what had happened at his house and braces for a sudden swing, but Bede just glares. “Miss Opal insists that I _mellow out_ more,” he grumbles, “and therefore, though I heavily considered slamming the door on you just now, I decided to set aside my justifiable instinct and instead offer you hospitality.”

“Gee, thanks.” Privately Hop isn’t sure he even wants to be offered. He’d rather just go. 

For the first time since stepping through the threshold, Hop takes note of his surroundings. Bede’s apartment is absurdly quaint for someone with such a barbed tongue. There’s various shades of pink on everything, from the light wallpaper to the upholstery of the sofa, and Hop wonders if Opal helped him (or forced him to) decorate. On the kitchen windowsill is a row of flowering plants that look well cared for, and even the lighting of the place is warm and gentle. The whole place has the atmosphere of a strange, magical cottage in the woods — fitting for Ballonlea, and quite cute, but altogether too soft for Hop to reconcile with his image of Bede.

“It’s very, um…” Hop is at a loss for words.

“Pink?” Bede growls.

“I was going to say, er, it’s nice,” Hop says, “but sure, that works too. Very pink.”

Bede squints at him skeptically, and Hop notices the pronounced bags under his eyes. He looks pale too, even for someone whose signature look is almost disgustingly pastel. It's nothing Hop can put his finger on. Bede’s hair isn’t particularly unkempt, and his clothes are pristine as ever, from his crisp collar down to the cuffs of his pants; yet he exudes an aura of exhaustion so suffocating that anxiety creeps through Hop just looking at him.

He clears his throat. Ah, yes — the apology, the one Sonia insists he owes Bede. Where to even begin? _Sorry about what happened at the party._ But the words seem too trivial for Bede’s current state. “Something on your mind?” he tries instead.

“Huh?” Bede seems unfocused. “Nothing.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause you seemed extra worked up the other day, and even now —"

"There is one thing," Bede says, hands twitching, and he immediately looks horrified upon admitting it. "Something... trivial. And none of your business."

"You, uh, don't have to tell me."

“The Chairman is coming back from his hiatus,” Bede blurts. “You know, that long trip he conveniently took after his trial to ‘study foreign energy alternative’ or whatever rubbish excuse he gave publicly to escape criticism. I mean, he did almost destroy the entire Galar Region, but he thought he had the people’s best interests at heart, right? It’s not like he was really a criminal.” He begins to pace; Hop watches Bede's usual calculated composure slipping quickly out of his grasp. “I suppose it’s only fair he comes back, returns to his house. Maybe he’ll repent doing community service.” A clipped sob breaks free from his throat, and Hop flinches. He didn't come here prepared deal with _this._ “That sure would be something, wouldn’t it? The great Chairman Rose, picking up trash in the Wild Area. It sounds like a joke, doesn’t it?”

“Bede?”

The young man clad head-to-toe in ethereal pink stops pacing and falls silent.

What can Hop even say, now faced with something much more challenging than an apology. “You... really don’t wanna see the Chairman, do you?”

An ugly scowl twists his lips. “Quite the deduction. Perhaps you should have become a Pokemon Detective instead?”

_Focus. Don’t take the bait._ “Is he, uh, expecting to see you?”

“How should I know?”

“Well,” Hop says carefully, “you don’t have to if it’s uncomfortable. I mean, I — I also wouldn’t want to see him again after all that. If I were you.” _Real delicate, Hop._ “I know he meant a lot to you, but —"

Bede bursts into tears.

He cries almost prettily, Hop thinks; tears streaming from sparkly eyes, something rare and somehow wondrous to see in motion. But the thought perturbs him, and Hop jolts himself out of the strange open-mouthed reverie as quickly as it had begun. “Hey —”

“Don’t,” Bede sobs. “You shouldn’t be seeing this. Especially — especially not _you._ ”

Hop is too baffled to be offended. Had he inadvertently said something to set him off? “It’s okay,” he says awkwardly. “You can, uh, pretend I’m not here. In fact, I can just leave —”

At that moment, Bede’s Hatterene teleports between them. Hop yelps and jumps back, barely missing being clobbered by the tendril extending from the Pokemon’s hat. With a high-pitched whine Hatterene pulls the sniffling Bede to her chest and glowers with unbridled ferocity at Hop, who’s not quite sure how to defend himself. “It’s all right,” Bede says, placing a hand on his Pokemon’s back. “Don’t go after him. He didn’t do anything.” Hatterene doesn’t seem convinced. She tenses, ready to strike again, and Hop gulps. “Why don’t you go to Glimwood Tangle for a while?” Bede’s voice is not quite level, but for someone who had been sobbing moments prior, it’s a fairly impressive act. “I’ll calm down, and you can come back. Okay?”

Slowly, Hatterene lets go of Bede. She looks conflicted, Hop thinks. On the one hand, she wishes to stay and protect her Trainer; but on the other, the swell of emotions is too much for her psychic sensitivity, and she seems to be in a great deal of pain. After a moment of silent deliberation she teleports out of the room.

“Your Hatterene really cares about you,” Hop says carefully. “I don’t think I’d be able to train one. When I feel things, I tend to let it all out. She probably wouldn’t like that.” He’s trying to fill the silence, but it’s uncomfortable. “Hey, uh. Are you okay? Do you... need to talk about it?”

“You wouldn’t?”

“Huh?”

Bede takes a breath. “Someone who inspired you when you needed it the most, and now they’ve fallen from grace — so to speak. What if it was your brother? You can honestly tell me you wouldn’t want to see him?”

“...So you _do_ want to see Rose?”

Bede is staring at his hands. “Hop.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Please leave.”

_Ah._

“Sorry,” Hop chokes out as he shuffles towards the door, but Bede doesn’t look up, the only indication he’d heard Hop a clench of his jaw. Hop fumbles with the door handle on the way out and almost trips stepping out of the apartment, strung tight with nerves.

He’d overstepped, hadn’t he?

But more than that — he’s worried about Bede.

And despite what Bede had requested, Hop doesn’t want to leave him alone to suffer.

* * *

Minutes — or hours, or seconds, who knows? — after Hop has left, Bede still finds himself on the verge of tears.

He lays on his back on his bed, eyes squeezed desperately shut under the pillow pressed to his face. Even now after he’s ceased crying, his head throbs, a dull ache swelling in and out with each shuddering breath. The ugly truth of it all is that he’d experienced what was probably a panic attack, and in front of Hop. After all those years he’d spent swallowing down those fears on his own, careful, _measured —_ still they had risen up in one instant like bile in the back of his throat. How had he shown such a buried, hidden side of himself to that scrappy assistant Professor of all people? What had even triggered the reaction?

_I know he meant a lot to you._

Right. That was it.

No mockery, no judgment.

Rose _had_ meant a lot to Bede.

His bottom lip quivers. Damn, he’s pathetic, knowing for a fact that the former chairman (practically a criminal, no less!) had no particular attachment to him, and yet years later still craving his acknowledgment, as though it has any value whatsoever. 

Bede’s Rotom Phone rings.

_Good, a distraction._ Bede only briefly acknowledges the caller ID before answering the call. “Bea?” Is his voice steady? He hopes it's steady. “This is a surprise. Is something the matter at your Gym?”

There’s a pause. “No, everything is fine over here. Actually, it was you I was worried about.”

He flinches. “Pardon?”

“Allister told me he was concerned about your, um… energy you were giving off. You may think he’s a bit strange,” she adds before Bede can interject the thought himself, “but he truly has a sixth sense for these kinds of things. And he means well, even if he doesn’t express himself too well.”

“Strange doesn’t even begin to cover it.” Bede scoffs. “He showed up at my door in the middle of the night like some kind of serial murderer, mask and all.”

She laughs softly, surprising Bede. He had rarely even seen Bea _smile,_ much less lower the practiced walls of her stoic persona. “That sounds like him, yes. I apologize if he startled you. He can be a little difficult to read at times. Are you really sure you don't need anything? Not to pry, but Allister is usually fairly spot-on...”

_No kidding._ “There’s no need to worry about me,” Bede says curtly, because hell if he’s going to let yet _another_ person be privy to his emotional outbursts. 

“If you’re sure,” Bea says after a pause, “then I ought to get off and prepare for the Gym battle I have scheduled for tomorrow. It's my first one back this season."

"There's no need to fret over me," Bede says a bit testily. "I'm not your responsibility."

“I can’t say I’m really looking forward to it,” Bea says, which surprises him. “If I’m anything less than stoic, it will ruin my public image. I feel like I can’t be myself in front of the crowds.” She clears her throat. “I thought perhaps you could relate to the sentiment. It's difficult sometimes... isn't it?”

“Well,” Bede says, gritting his teeth, "you get some rest before tomorrow, Bea. Wouldn’t want you to crumble to nerves in front of your fans.”

It’s a cruel thing for him to say, but Bea just sighs. “The same goes for you.”

“Take care,” Bede says, and he hangs up too fast, not wanting her words to sink in — not wanting to even _think_ about them.

* * *

Hop wonders if he seems like a stalker, making repeated unsolicited house calls (because he’s concerned as any normal person would be, he tells himself sternly — a _healthy,_ normal level of concern). He wonders if it's some strange internal masochism that compels him to keep reaching out to someone so unapproachable, but regardless of their history, there’s no way Hop would ever give up on Bede, especially not now when Bede’s fragile side is just barely beginning to peek through the cracks. 

The door creaks open, and something brushes against Hop’s leg. He looks down to see Bede’s Sylveon staring up at him with doll-like eyes. Before Hop can lean down to pet the Pokemon, Bede makes a beckoning noise and Sylveon darts into the apartment and leaps onto the armrest of the sofa where it remains perched, watching Hop curiously.

“Oh, it’s you,” Bede says while turning back to him, as personable as ever. “Sorry, I don't feel like autographing your League Card right now.”

“Um, wasn't gonna ask. I actually just wanted to, uh, see if you were okay? You know, from before.”

Surprisingly, Bede doesn’t slam the door in his face at the question. “What do you have to gain from fretting about me?”

“I — huh? I’m not gaining anything from this.” _If anything, I’m losing something: my patience._ “I just wanted to check in.”

“Of course I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?”

“Bede —”

In one sudden movement Bede ushers Hop through the entrance and shuts the door behind him. “All right, all right — no need to give me that pitying look. I’ll admit it outright so you leave me be: I’m still fretting about the prospect of seeing the Chairm— whatever he is now. Even after everything, he still has fans here who will welcome him back. People who agreed with his actions, no matter how extreme. I know we’ll have to speak eventually — it would be strange if we didn't — and yet all I can think about is how to put it off. Call me a coward if you’d like, see if I care.”

“You’re not a coward,” Hop says gently, and Bede’s silent scowl is his only response. "I didn't even have a history with him, and I don't really wanna run into him either, after all he put my brother through."

Oddly enough, the comment makes Bede laugh. "You had to face down Eternatus, and you're worried about what your _brother_ went through?"

Unfortunately Bede has a point. "This isn't about me," he says defensively, because it's _never_ about him; it's either about Bede or Leon or Sonia or anyone more important than he is.

Bede raises an eyebrow, and for that moment alone Hop can't shake the feeling he's been seen on some uncanny level. He wonders if Bede gained the ability through Opal's otherworldly magical training. "Apparently he's giving some kind of self-aggrandizing 'welcoming himself back to Galar' speech in Wyndon later today. I received a message from Oleana on my Rotom Phone inviting me, as though I have any desire to listen to that man prattle about his nonsense anymore. Especially when he can't even be bothered to contact me himself."

He sounds hurt, almost disappointed even, but Hop has he sense not to draw attention to that fact. “Why even bother going? Don't go just because you feel like you have to.”

Bede barks a laugh. “What excuse do I have not to face him other than sheer cowardice? What will I tell them if they ask me later why I didn't show up?”

"An excuse? Uh, how about you had plans,” Hop blurts, “so you couldn't go?”

“I _don’t_ have plans,” Bede huffs with disbelief. “Did you take a Slam to the head? You want me to blatantly lie?”

“There’s a good pizza place in Circhester,” Hop insists, feeling a tad lightheaded the more he considers his own plan. “Why don't we go get some together? See, now you have plans." He's not certain he'll be able to tolerate Bede for an entire meal, only the two of them; the thought honestly has him breaking out in metaphorical hives. But it's not like he can take it back immediately after the words leave his mouth. Sometimes he wishes he thought a bit more before speaking.

Bede blinks. And blinks again. “You’re… inviting me out for pizza.” One brow raises skeptically. “The Chairman is coming back, and your bright idea to avoid him is to ask me to eat lunch with you?”

“Well —”

“I suppose —” Here Bede starts to flush, tugging up the collar of his shirt to hide the color on his cheeks. “It’s not an entirely absurd idea. It is — as you said — a _plan.”_

Well, there goes his one chance at getting out of this interaction: Bede had actually _agreed._ “Yeah, no pressure. You can tell me more about Ballonlea, or whatever you want, really. Might get your mind off things.”

“You mean, waste my time with vapid small talk.”

“Or you can just stuff your face and not say a word if that's how you're gonna be, you ass.”

He wonders if the retort is too harsh, but again Bede laughs. “All right,” he says, much more amiable than Hop had expected. “Since you were so _dreadfully_ persistent, I suppose I will take you up on your offer of a distraction, on the condition that we splitting the bill. I refuse to be indebted to you.”

_Stubborn as a Tauros._ “Whatever helps you sleep at night, mate.”

_I'm a good_ _person,_ Hop reminds himself desperately. _I'm doing a nice thing for Bede. Maybe it won't be so awkward._

He wonders if this is similar to the dread his Pokemon feel when they hear Perish Song, gradually slipping towards an inevitable disaster.

* * *

“You know, this place is really popular with the young crowd in Circhester,” Hop says in an obvious attempt to break the silence after the server brings them their pizza. 

Bede has been staring absently at the table, and only now does he look up and make eye contact with Hop. “The ‘young crowd?’ You sound like someone’s grandfather. No, that's not giving grandfathers enough credit. Even Miss Opal doesn’t talk like that.”

“At least I’m trying,” Hop mutters, reaching for a slice. “Are you seriously about to eat your pizza with a fork and knife?” Hop snorts. “That’s very posh.”

Bede freezes, fork in hand. “Excuse you,” he snaps back, unable to come up with a better comeback. His gaze trails from his own plate to the slice of pizza folded casually in Hop’s hand. “It’s called having manners.”

Hop just laughs. “I’m kidding, mate. I didn’t mean to make you self-conscious. You can eat pizza however you’d like.”

“I’m not _posh,”_ Bede mutters, heat creeping up his ears. “I’m — you’ve got a smirk on your face like a Purrloin. Stop that.”

“Suit yourself. We can’t all be as refined as you.”

It irks him, somehow — the thought that his own behavior is _weird,_ that it separates him from the normalcy of others. With a huff Bede sets the utensils down and grabs the pizza slice with fervor, wincing as the grease drips between his fingers. “See? This is fine too.” Absurdly defiant, he takes a too-large bite from the slice, maintaining eye contact with Hop who’s struggling not to laugh.

“You’ve got sauce on your chin.”

His hand shoots out to grab the napkin as Hop chuckles. “Thank you for letting me know,” Bede says stiffly. “You’re quite the _pal.”_

“Thanks,” Hop says with that irritating grin of his. “You know, it’s kinda strange seeing you eating pizza. Not in a bad way, er — I dunno. It just feels out of the ordinary for some reason. Can’t put my finger on it.”

Bede raises an eyebrow, not sure he appreciates being called _strange_ simply for sharing a meal with someone. “What, pray tell, did you expect I would be eating?”

“That’s not —”

“No, no — please, elaborate. Now I’m curious.”

Hop heaves a disgruntled sigh. “I dunno. Something… classier? Now I just sound ridiculous.”

Bede tilts his head. “You consider me classy? What a joke.” With a huff he thinks back to the days at the orphanage, solving all interpersonal disputes with his fists. “Though I suppose that’s a fine testament to Opal’s influence. A little polish can make anyone seem _classier._ Even you, as a matter of fact." It's satisfying to watch Hop's lips contort into a scowl. "But I’m no gentleman just because I wear prettier clothes now, you know. And I’m certainly not above eating pizza.”

It’s become much easier to be candid with Hop, almost disturbingly so. In the past, admitting such a thing would have caused him a great deal of shame. Yet there's something a bit liberating about being able to act himself around someone who's not in their 90s (no offense to his doting mentor), even if that genuine side of himself pushes Hop's buttons a bit. Bede harbors no true ill will against Hop — how could Bede even have the right when he's the one causing all the problems between them? — and he gets the sense Hop knows that too, or he wouldn't keep pursuing interactions with Bede like this. (Either that, or Hop is both sickeningly naive and impossibly oblivious, but that's probably not giving him enough credit.)

Hop just grins. “You know, I’m glad. I dunno what I’d do if you’d changed all that much. I’ve gotten used to you being a prick.”

“You’re glad?” The words come out oddly strained; Bede moves to take a sip of his water but his lips miss the straw entirely, and he fumbles for a moment before recalibrating. “And you — still optimistic to a fault.” Slightly less idealistic than he’d been five years ago, sure, but still positive. “There’s some comfort in familiarity, I suppose,” Bede adds in a mumble, pushing down the creeping horror of realizing he too is _glad._ Many people in his life have been fickle; the Chairman, unreadable; his parents, gone. Hop is someone who instead, somewhat unexpectedly, has become a constant as of late. Even if Hop's company is a gesture born out of pure pity, Bede finds himself appreciating it more than he's comfortable about.

“Hey, if it was a fault, we wouldn’t be eating pizza together,” Hop says with a laugh.

Suddenly, Bede doesn’t feel very hungry anymore, a rising nausea in his gut — it’s not _really_ nausea of course, but it’s better to call it that than what it is: a fluttering of the heartbeat, irregular enough to sicken him out of an appetite. How does his mind still have space to freeze up over Hop’s smile when he’s already so twisted up about Rose’s return? Both anxious feelings blend together, each souring the other. 

Bede's chest tightens. It’s all the same agonizing loop of thoughts as before — _nobody likes you, the Chairman cast you aside because he didn’t like you, and Hop is someone else who’s definitely only tolerating you at best —_

“Bede?”

Hop’s staring at him with concern, gentler than Bede deserves, and he realizes he’s digging his nails into the tablecloth. “Thanks for the meal,” he manages absently. 

“Hey, mate, sorry if I made you uncomfortable inviting you here today. I didn’t mean to force you.” The smile has dropped off his face, to be replaced with something more guarded. "I know it's a little weird. I just thought it would be a nice distraction from your... other stuff."

Bede swallows. "It's a little weird," he admits, "but... I appreciate the distraction. Being here." His foot taps rapidly under the table, his body's desperate plea to break out of his own skin. "To be honest, at the moment... I'm not sure what to say."

To his surprise, Hop just nods. “I get it. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. Just enjoy your pizza for now, and you can talk about it later if you want to, okay?”

_Ah, there’s that pesky flutter again._

“Wh-whatever.”

* * *

Hop finds his brother in the lobby of the Research Lab when he returns to his work. 

“You’ve been spending a lot of time at the Battle Tower lately,” he says offhand as he steps out of his shoes in the doorway, still shaking off the mental fog that had accumulated from his vexing and unsatisfying lunch experience. “It would be nice if you came home more often. I think it’s hard on Sonia, not being able to talk to you as often these days.”

Leon just shrugs, flopping down on the sofa with a languid stretch of his arms. “That’s the Hop I know — always worrying about me. But it’s okay, Sonia and I'll figure it out ourselves. Life with the League has been pretty busy these days, and she's busy too. You'll understand when you're older, little bro — life and work balance.”

He’s being dismissive, as usual. Hop scowls. “I’m not _always worrying about you,_ Lee.” _I have my own life now, one that has nothing to do with you._ Oh, how badly he wants to say it — and still Hop bites back the words. Arguing with Leon, much like the rest of his life where Leon is concerned, is always a losing battle. “I just thought you’d like to know she wants to see you.”

His brother just smiles. “Noted, noted. Speaking of wanting to see people, I hear you have a mad crush on that Fairy boy.”

Hop chokes. “Oh — oh yeah? Where’d you hear that nonsense?” Not his finest comeback, but the sudden remark had quite honestly bludgeoned him.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on the Pokemon League since Rose, er, _stepped down,”_ Leon says with a snort. “So of course I'm up on all the juiciest League gossip.”

“You’re joking.”

“Yes, I’m joking.” Leon laughs. “I heard from Sonia that you two were on some date or something earlier. You know, I never would have expected Bede to be your type. Isn’t he a bit too… smarmy?”

“Give it a rest,” Hop snaps. “First of all, I dunno what Sonia's been feeding you, but we were _not_ on a date. We’re on better terms than before, sure — but it’s not what you’re making it out to be.”

He raises an eyebrow. “So if Bede showed up right now on his big, majestic Rapidash like some prince in a fairy tale to whisk you away, you’d say no?”

“You’re addled.” 

"That's not an answer." Leon's grin widens. “I think _you’re_ the one who’s addled, Little Bro.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong.”

“You’ve got strange taste,” Leon says, ignoring him yet again. “But you know I’ll always support you even if I don’t understand it.”

Hop might as well be talking to a wall. Actually, a wall would be slightly less irritating, though equally as deaf to his words.

“I changed my mind,” Hop growls. “You can go get permanently lost.”

* * *

Yesterday, Bede had avoided the former chairman’s return by eating lunch with Hop, thought they hadn't talked much during the endeavor; all Bede could think of was the guilt gnawing away at him, the voice in his mind chastising him for skipping an event he hadn't wanted to attend in the first place.

Today, he stands before Rose’s door nonetheless, waiting for a response to his shaky knock.

Rose’s house in Wyndon is indulgent in the way one would stereotypically conceive a rich person's house, complete with an intimidating cobbled driveway and absurdly ornate door knocker. During his brief farce of an apprenticeship under the man, Bede had only ever visited his office in the (former) Rose Tower, never his personal living quarters. Being here now feels terribly unnatural.

“Young Bede.” It’s the first thing Rose says when he opens the door, in that painfully familiar voice, and he looks the same as ever, with a pleasant smile and an only slightly more wrinkled forehead. “You’ve certainly been thriving. I hear you’re quite the popular Gym Leader. I’m glad to hear you found your calling.” He gestures for Bede to come in, and Bede hesitates for only a moment before stepping inside, following Rose to his living room and taking a seat opposite him on the sofa. The ceilings are too high and the floors are too clean. Even for someone who's gradually grown more refined in his tastes over the years, it's too much to take in all at once. 

And what can he even say to that, to _him?_ Bede’s throat goes dry. “Of course I’m doing well,” he says heatedly. “Better than you, anyway.”

Rose doesn’t even flinch. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. My actions regarding Eternatus were quite rash. But I have had much time to reflect on them these past years.”

Bede remains silent, afraid to know what he may divulge to the man if he lets himself speak.

“I know you resent me,” Rose says, “and for good reason, too. I wouldn’t blame you. Honestly, when Oleana told me you had agreed to meet with me today, I was very surprised. I certainly wasn't expecting you to show up yesterday, though I would have been just as pleased. But even if you don’t believe it, I’m happy to see you doing well.”

“Mm,” Bede grunts, gaze fixated on the hands folded in his lap.

“I’m sure you have plenty you wish to say to me. You may get it out, if you so wish. I am not asking for forgiveness, of course, especially from someone I cast aside to further my own goals.”

“S-so you —” Bede tries to steady his voice, and fails. “You do admit you cast me aside unfairly?”

A nod. “I knew your heart was in the right place back then, and your zeal for helping me collect Wishing Stars was certainly unmatched. But destroying a landmark of Galar... at the time, the repercussions of continuing to endorse you after such an act were too severe. I feared that if I did not cut ties with you completely, the ensuing chaos would hinder my progress.”

“So you were afraid of a PR scandal,” Bede sneers. “Somehow, hearing it directly doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“I am a man who constantly fears he is running out of time,” Rose says softly. “That if I do not accomplish what I desire as soon as possible, the chance will slip out of my grasp. Perhaps I sacrificed our relationship unfairly in the vain hope it would speed up the process of saving Galar in the long run. But perhaps —” And here Rose sighs, shoulders deflating in a manner unbefitting a former Chairman — “it was beneficial for you to have cut ties with me back then. You have accomplished so much more as a Gym Leader than you ever would have if you had stayed caught up in my mess.”

_What if I_ wanted _to stay caught up in it?_ “Why are you telling me this?” Bede asks instead. “Why are you — why are you telling me this _now?”_

Rose smiles that very familiar, very distant smile. “I don’t want any more chances to slip out of my grasp.”

_I don’t understand. Is this for your benefit or mine?_

“I’m leaving,” Bede says curtly, standing without a glance at the man beside him. “You’ve said your piece. But as you’ve said, I have Gym Leader duties to attend to. I can’t waste another moment here with this — with this —” What _is_ this, even? Self-inflicted torture? Why had he let himself come here? “This _drivel._ Goodbye.”

“Thank you for meeting with me, Bede,” Rose says, and Bede still refuses to look. But he can hear that smile unwavering in his words, that same smile as ever; the smile that had reached out to him back at the orphanage and filled him with hope for his future.

He hears that smile, and angry tears prick the corners of his eyes.

Bede almost turns back.

* * *

Hop receives a strange text — and from _Allister,_ of all people, to whom he rarely speaks.

_bedes energy is bad today. can you check on him._

Vaguely unsettling punctuation aside, Hop takes the warning to heart, trying to ignore the swooping of his gut when he reads the words. _Bad energy?_ What does that even mean? And why has it suddenly become _his_ responsibility to check on Bede over and over?

All these questions take him to Bede’s door nonetheless; like clockwork, always coming back to the same scene and hoping something will be different next time. Hop, though begrudgingly, is unable to ignore Allister’s plea — not to mention his own morbid curiosity.

“Stop coming here,” Bede says tiredly, foregoing a hello, but he ushers Hop into his apartment anyway. Hop decides to listen to Bede's actions and not his words, carefully closing the door behind him. “What is this obsession with my well-being all of a sudden?”

“I think we’d get along if you just let yourself talk to me a little,” Hop says, though he’s not at all certain that’s true. He recalls his brother's teasing against his will, and frowns, trying his best not to even _think_ of Bede in that context. “Seems like you could us a, uh… venting buddy?”

Bede scoffs. “As if.”

Hop waits.

“Well —” Bede swallows. “I’ve just — I’ve been thinking.”

Hop continues waiting. 

“About past… matters.” He furrows his eyebrows. “Since you’ve intruded my space, I may as well ask for your opinion on said matters.”

“May as well,” Hop agrees with a straight face, internally pleased he was right. “What’s up?”

“I’ve been thinking… back then, maybe the Chairman acted drastically because I didn’t help him as I should have,” Bede murmurs. “I will forever be grateful for Opal and the potential she saw in me. But sometimes I still find myself wondering… what went so wrong? Was it — was it me?”

It's actually fairly sad that Bede is so fixated on what should be the distant past. He's probably never had anyone to discuss it with, Hop thinks, stewing in a cocktail of misgivings and anxiety and regret all these years. It's a familiar brew of emotions, one he himself has learned to temper but not quite overcome.

Hop claps a firm hand on Bede's shoulder. “You can’t really believe Chairman Rose’s actions were _your_ fault, can you?” When Bede doesn’t answer, Hop clears his throat hurriedly. “Of course they weren't. Hey — look at me.” In that moment, Bede reminds him of the tormented Zacian, the legendary beast that only calmed down with the help of Hop’s words. Perhaps he can do the same thing for Bede now, lead him away from these dark insecurities that drag him down. 

Bede raises his gaze, more uncertain than Hop has ever seen him.

“When you were disqualified from the Gym Challenge like that, even I felt bad for you,” Hop says. “Your words really gave me a beating —” Bede flinches, but he presses on — “but even so, you were a good Trainer and you really did care about helping Rose. I was shocked to hear he pulled the rug out from under you like that — we all were.”

He says nothing.

“It’s hard to not be taken seriously by someone you look up to,” Hop adds quietly. “I would know. I idolized Lee more than anyone as a kid, and even now I'm still just his little brother to him.”

Bede bites his bottom lip; the gesture makes him look startlingly young. “I really hurt you back then, didn’t I?”

“Huh? I wasn't trying to make this about me —”

Bede snaps his fingers, interrupting him. “Let me finish,” he says forcefully. For once, Hop can’t even muster up the energy to feel irritated by the rude behavior. “The Champion himself sponsored you to participate in the Gym Challenge. Your… your own brother putting faith in you. I hated you — I _envied_ you. And you were so motivated… I wanted you to give up. I _wanted_ your family to be disappointed in you.” He laughs harshly. “It all sounds a bit deranged when I say it out loud, doesn’t it?”

“Bede…”

“But you took me seriously. It was all petty games and taunts, but you truly took my words to heart. You started to falter. And…” Bede squints his eyes shut. “I was happy about it. Not just that I had beaten you. I was just happy that someone had given weight to my opinion at all.”

Now Hop is the one who can’t find the words to respond. The seed of self-doubt that Bede had planted back then had spread its poisonous roots to his heart and nearly crippled him. It had taken all his willpower not to succumb to the darkness.

“If I hadn’t acted in that manner, the two of us may have even become… friends.” Bede flushes. “I regret what I said to you back then. Even now, you’re lending an ear to my problems — multiple times even! — and I can hardly face you. No need to point out the pathetic irony, by the way — it is far from lost on me. But I never… I never formally apologized for what I said. It was years ago, and yet — it still eats away at me. So from the bottom of my heart, I would like to say… I’m sorry. That’s… that’s all.”

This is it: the apology Hop had yearned for all these years, laid bare and without pretenses. He should be _rejoicing._

Instead, his mind fixates on something else Bede had said.

“What do you mean, we _may have_ become friends?” Hop says, heart thrumming in his chest. “Aren’t we — aren’t we friends _now?”_

It's a dangerous leap, but rather than appear angry, Bede looks genuinely shocked. “...Huh? Do you really consider us such?”

“Yeah,” Hop says, surprised to find he means it. “Especially since you apologized, so… sure? I mean —” He laughs nervously. “We beat each other up, and I’ve seen you cry. I think we have to be friends at this point.”

“Is that how that works?” Bede says sourly, but Hop can see his shoulders gradually relax. “How is that fair? I haven’t seen _you_ cry.”

“You _made_ me cry,” Hop retorts. “During the Gym Challenge. You made me cry _plenty._ Take my word for it.”

“H-hey, I just apologized for that!”

Hop laughs. “I know, I know. Honestly, the way things were going back then, I probably would have had the same doubt spiral regardless of what you said to me. In a weird way, I’m kinda glad I went through that crisis. I’m really happy now, doing research. I can’t even picture what life I would have led as the new Champion.” When he says it out loud like that, relief washes over him, because he knows it to be true. “Don’t worry about it. I’m glad we talked, but it’s in the past now, okay?”

“You really mean that?” Bede blinks. “Surely no one is _that_ forgiving.”

“What, you calling me a liar?” Hop rolls his eyes. “Even in the middle of an apology, you find ways to be difficult, huh?” Bede scowls, looking a bit disgruntled, and Hop can’t help but grin. “But you meant that you were sorry, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did!” Bede snaps. “I wouldn’t say such things lightly!”

“Then it’s fine,” Hop says. “We’re friends. Okay?”

“Okay,” Bede echoes uncertainty.

Hop wonders if he should hug Bede, but he can’t imagine the gesture going over well. “If you need to talk to anyone about this Rose stuff,” he says instead, “I’ll be here to listen, if you want.”

Instead of refusing as Hop had expected, Bede just sighs. “Now I’m starting to understand how you managed to get the Legendary Pokemon to trust you.”

_Was that a compliment?!_ “It’s really nothing much,” Hop protests. “Listening is the least anyone can do.”

“It’s not the least,” Bede mumbles, so low Hop barely catches the words. “I’ll think about it. If the situation gets… dire, I _suppose_ I will consider calling upon your services.”

“They’re not _services,”_ Hop says with an incredulous laugh. “It’s just being a friend, mate.”

“Then I suppose I’ll consider calling upon your friendship.”

Bede’s cheeks are very pink.

Hop thinks it suits him. 

* * *

Bede doesn’t know why he’s back here, standing before Rose’s door, hand outstretched — as though he _wants_ to reconcile, which he _doesn’t._

He does.

He does, and he _does_ know why he’s back here, because he craves the closure he had insisted he didn’t need. Or if not closure, then _something._ It’s all very vague; all he knows for certain is that his former role model (how that misplaced faith is so shameful now!) still somehow _matters._ Once they’ve talked enough for Bede to feel satisfied, he’ll know. At least, he hopes he’ll know.

And if it goes terribly wrong, at least now he has someone he can turn to.

Oleana opens the door. It doesn’t surprise Bede that they’re living together — “Rose’s secretary” had never quite described their relationship properly. Bede had known this even years prior, watching Oleana’s secret glances at Rose with childish curiosity and precocious understanding. “Hello, Bede,” Oleana says, bored gaze immediately scrutinizing him upon arrival. “I take it you are here to speak to Rose?”

“Yes, I am,” Bede says. “I can assure you my former outburst will not be repeate—”

Oleana holds a hand up to silence him. “What you and he discuss is none of my concern,” she says dully. “I am not here to micromanage his conversations, simply assist the effort to restore his good standing and reputation with the people of Galar."

“The Chairm— Mr. Rose is lucky to have you on his side,” Bede says cautiously after a pause. 

Much like her boss, Oleana has always been hard to read, and now is no exception. Her expression barely changes, and she ushers him in. “Regardless of his current status, it would be impolite to keep him waiting. Follow me.”

There’s nothing more he needs to say to her, so Bede falls behind her silently, listening to her heels click against the floor as she walks. Oleana has never treated him with anything other than icy formality, but Bede doesn’t mind. After all, _she’s_ not the one whose praise he had craved.

Just like before, the man sits on his sofa with a cup of coffee placed precisely on the coffee table in front of him. His shoulders are relaxed, and he turns to face Bede as though having expected him, always acting so knowing even when he doesn’t know.

“Hello again,” Rose says softly.

Bede fidgets, clasping his hands together and bringing his arms to his chest. Though he doesn’t want to show weakness or nerves in front of Rose, he can’t help but tap his thumbs together, live wires of anxiety coursing through every joint and tensing his muscles. “I apologize for storming out on you before,” Bede says. “I don’t think — I don’t think I was ready to face you.”

“You don’t have to face me now, you know,” Rose says with a sad smile. “In fact, you don’t owe me any further interactions, much less an apology.”

“I know I don’t,” Bede snaps. “I’m not here because I owe you anything. It was my own choice.”

Rose chuckles. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh at you. I just can’t help but feel… relieved, I suppose, that you’re still the same as ever, Young Bede. Always quick to speak your mind with that brutally honest wit of yours. It makes me happy… that I didn’t break your spirit.”

He’s about to retort when he realizes why the sentiment sounds so familiar: Bede had once feared he had done the same to Hop. The realization of their similarity does not comfort him. “You weren’t wrong about me back then, you know. I didn’t have any appreciation for Galar at all. The people shunned me, and its history meant nothing to me. I would have made a lousy Champion.” A sigh. “But you were an even lousier Chairman.”

“That I was,” Rose agrees more readily than Bede had expected. “And not much of a mentor, either. Is it cathartic for you, talking about my shortcomings?”

Somehow, he asks the question with pure curiosity and not a tinge of sarcasm or visible hurt, and Bede frowns. “I don’t know,” he mutters. “I can’t tell if you mean it. I can never tell if you mean anything you say.”

“I get that a lot,” Rose says with a pleasant smile. “Would you like to sit?”

Bede shakes his head. “I can’t stay long. I — Gym duties.” The excuse sounds feeble, and the understanding flickering in Rose’s eyes makes him angry. “I simply wanted you to know that…” Here his throat grows dry, because he hadn’t prepared enough ahead of time. “I’m not happy to see you back,” Bede blurts, cheeks warming. “I wish you had stayed outside of Galar. It would have been better without you.”

_How shameful._

“I understand,” Rose says. “I acknowledge I was in the wrong with you, and I unfairly involved you in my follies. I’m not sure what I can do for you now, but I don’t feel comfortable leaving you in this state. I do still care about your well being, Bede. Let me know what may help you, and I will do my best to ease your mind.”

Frustrated tears prick the corners of his eyes. Rose’s offer sounds clinical, a business proposal. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t even know if my mind _can_ be eased.”

Rose remains silent, but now the easy smile is gone.

“Thank you for listening,” Bede says with a stiff bow, before straightening and turning away, anxiety running so high it threatens to break into a gallop. “I just… thought you should know.”

“That you’ve grown disillusioned with me?” Rose chuckles sadly. “Again, I don’t blame you. I hope we can move past this misstep, but… I can understand if you would prefer not to.”

This time, it’s Bede who doesn’t speak.

“You’ve become a marvelous Trainer, by the way.”

Bede swallows. “...Thank you. Now, I will be taking my leave.”

When he returns to the front hallway, Oleana is waiting for him, one eyebrow arched at his darkened expression. Mercifully, she doesn’t inquire, and simply holds the door open with a nod. 

He can feel her eyes focused on his back as he retreats.

* * *

Bede steps into his apartment and slams the door behind him.

Everything had gone... fine.

No, better than fine — he and Rose had communicated almost honestly with one another for what may have been the first time in both their lives.

So why can’t Bede shake the shame of having met with him at all? 

Had he broken some unspoken vow to himself by allowing the conversation to happen? Nothing bad had happened, nothing at _all_ had happened, but — he’s nauseous, thinking of telling anyone that he’d spoken to Rose again, as though he’ll still come across as dependent on the man. It’s been years since his Gym Challenge, and certainly no one associates him with the Chairman anymore.

Unless they do?

Unless — he still associates _himself_ with the Chairman.

_Knock. Knock._

Bede jumps. For a wild moment, he wonders if the person at his door is Hop. He truly has grown far too accustomed to his visits for comfort. And yet a part of him wishes the budding Professor would conveniently show up at this moment to talk him through the mixed feelings that have resurfaced upon seeing his former idol yet again.

Fortunately for his pride, when he opens the door it is instead Marnie standing at the entrance. “Heya, Bede. Now a bad time?”

“Not particularly,” he says, forcing his expression into something painfully neutral. _I could use the distraction._ “Come in. Would you like some tea?”

“Sure, if it’s not too much trouble,” Marnie says, carefully stepping out of her boots and placing them to the side. “Thanks. I don’t really know ‘bout fancy tea flavors and the like, though. So whatever’s fine.”

“Very well.” When Bede walks into the kitchen, he automatically reaches for the chamomile — because he feels like it, of course, and _definitely_ not because he needs to calm his nerves for any reason. “But this is a surprise. I wasn’t expecting a visit out of nowhere.”

“Sorry if it’s a bother,” Marnie says. “I just thought it'd be nice to ask you in person, 'cause sending a message over Rotom Phone feels kinda impersonal. Anyway, I was wonderin’ if you’d wanna come to my brother’s concert this weekend.”

“Concert?” Bede echoes. _What is going on?_ Had he and Marnie suddenly become close when he wasn’t paying attention? Why is she inviting him to, well, _anything?_

She nods. “He’s been workin’ real hard on his music ever since I took over as Gym Leader. Got a gig in Wyndon Stadium this weekend — biggest since he got his band back together. Piers’d never admit it, but I think he’s kinda nervous ‘bout all the pressure. That’s why I want as many people cheerin’ for him as possible. Get all that fired-up energy in the stadium so he knows everyone supports him, ya know?”

“Um.” Bede runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not, er, much of the _concert_ type person. Or cheering, for that matter.”

“I know,” Marnie says blithely, “but that’s no matter. You don’t have to cheer that loud if you don’t wanna. It’ll be fun, promise.”

“I, uh…”

“I invited Hop and Bea already,” Marnie interjects before Bede can finish protesting, “and they both said they’re comin’. Well, I invited Allister too, but he said he’s not too good with lotsa noise and crowded places. So he’s gonna pass on this one.”

“You invited Hop?” Did Hop tell Marnie to invite him? Is this a _pity_ invitation? ...No, he can't just ask that outright, as much as he suspects it.

Marnie smiles a little too sweetly, and Bede isn’t sure he cares for it. “You’ll come, right? I mean, I can’t force it, but it’d be more fun if you came, I think.”

“I suppose, as your fellow Gym Leader —”

Marnie shakes her head. “Just come ‘cause you wanna — okay, Bede?”

“All right,” Bede mumbles. “Because — because I wanna. Er — because I would like to,” he amends hastily.

Marnie just chuckles. “Um, if you’re really comin’... can I ask a favor?” When Bede raises a skeptical eyebrow, she puffs out her cheeks in a pout. “You can say no if you wanna, but…”

“Just spit it out,” Bede says. "You've already dragged me halfway into this circus — may as well rip the rest of the bandage off."

Luckily Marnie remains unfazed by his rudeness and simply rolls her eyes. “I was wonderin’ if you’d consider wearin’ the Team Yell colors to the concert to cheer my brother on. This is the biggest concert he’s ever done, and he’s been workin’ so hard with his band lately… I want it to be special for him. I think it’d mean a lot if my friends showed up to support him with a lotta spirit. I have some extra uniforms, so…”

“Oh, is that all?” Bede sighs. “Fine… if I must. That style doesn’t suit me at all, but I suppose I can manage for a few hours. Even if it is a bit of a nuisance.”

His complaining doesn’t deter her, and Marnie brightens considerably. “Thanks, Bede. You’re a real pal.”

“Ah, uh — you too,” Bede says awkwardly. “That is to say, I really do appreciate the offer. Wholeheartedly. ...Despite how I may seem.”

She smiles. “I know how ya seem. Don’t sweat it.”

“Hmph.” It feels more like a jab than a reassurance coming from her, Bede thinks. Marnie is known by her fans for having a soft spoken personality and sweet smile, but she can also be quite blunt underneath that exterior. Even so, he can’t bring himself to feel truly bothered. “Regarding these plans —”

“Ah, ‘course,” Marnie interjects suddenly, and Bede has to remind himself this is a casual conversation and not tell her off for the interruption. “‘S’on Saturday night at seven. Doors open at six. I already got tickets for us of course, so I thought we could meet in Spikemuth, then all catch a Flying Taxi together. Sound good?”

"That's... well, all right, I suppose."

“I’ll text you, okay?”

Bede nods, still not quite sure all of this is happening. In what universe would he ever get invited to an event like this — and even agree to go? Going to a concert with a group of his contemporaries is definitely not his style, but it will be a distraction, at the very least.

It might even be… fun.

* * *

The four meet in the lobby of the Pokemon Center in Spikemuth an hour before the doors open for the concert. Marnie hands them their black and pink Team Yell uniforms — mercifully not crop tops — and ushers them into the washrooms to change.

Bede folds his change of clothes into his bag and regards himself in the mirror, unenthused by the transformation. Black truly is not his color, he thinks with some regret; he's too pale and the contrast makes him look like a corpse. Admittedly the thought of climbing out the back window and fleeing back to Ballonlea had not escaped him. But he’d agreed to wear the outfit to appease Marnie, so he’ll grin and bear it for now — or more likely bear it without grinning. At least pink is featured a _little_ in the Team Yell colors.

He's idly checking his Rotom Phone for messages when Bea emerges from the adjacent washroom, also clad head-to-toe in black. Bede finds himself irked that the outfit looks so much better on her, and he forces himself to shake off the thought. Why must his hostile mind make a competition out of everything? It's frustrating. He can't even bring himself to compliment her.

“Hello, Bede.” Bea approaches him with a polite nod. Despite going through the same formal motions as ever, Bede can’t help but think she seems a bit antsier than usual; her gaze gives it away, flickering nervously between him and the spot across the room where Marnie and Hop are catching up with one another. “Actually, may I talk to you for a moment?”

“Aren’t we talking already?”

“If you don’t mind,” Bea says testily, “would you please listen?”

He sighs heavily but nods.

“All right.” Shutting her eyes briefly, Bea places her palms against one another and takes a deep, calming breath. “It’s — about Marnie. I would like to get to know her better, but she has many fans already…”

“Mmhmm.” Bede folds his arms across his chest. “And?”

“Bede,” Bea says, and there’s a spark of flames in her eyes, that frustration similar to how she looks when she loses a Pokemon battle. Bede forces himself to go silent before she snaps and wrestles him to the floor. He had fought Hop willingly, but he doesn’t want to risk his life with Bea. “You know what I mean. Don’t you ever worry that you… that you can’t stand out, when somebody already has so much support? For such a long time I only had Allister as a friend, but even he’s just like a little brother to me. It’s not the same… I want her to like me.”

“Well,” Bede says carefully, not sure how to approach this conversation without getting smacked (or admitting he _does_ understand), “she did invite you here, didn’t she? If you didn’t stand out, she wouldn’t have invited you in the first place.”

“She invited _only_ me,” Bea blurts, and Bede raises an eyebrow. “She asked me to go with her, and I was too nervous to be alone with her, so I suggested she invite you both too, and now she probably thinks I don’t want to hang out with her at all!”

“Ah.” Bede feels too much pity for the panicking girl in front of him to be offended that he had only been invited as a buffer after all. “Wait. This _thing_ you dragged me into — this was supposed to be a date? With you and Marnie?”

Bea’s cheeks flush. “No!”

“Are… you sure?”

“No,” Bea admits more quietly. “No, I’m not sure. But if it was, that’s even worse, isn’t it? That I was avoiding it and couldn’t tell her?”

_When did I become the expert on this matter?_ “People often get worked up for strange reasons,” Bede says, wishing he didn’t relate so deeply to his own words. “I’m sure if you talked to her, she’d understand. Marnie is a very thoughtful person, you know.” A thought occurs to him. _“Do_ you have... feelings for Marnie, actually?” Bea bites her lip, which is enough of an answer, and Bede presses on. “I really don’t know how to help you. What do you want me to do, leave?”

Bea glowers at him. “No, that’s not helpful. But I thought maybe you could… talk to Hop for a bit?” Her tone is as measured as ever, yet still somehow pleading. Bede has to consciously prevent himself from rolling his eyes. “So she knows I want to talk to her, one-on-one. I know it’s selfish, but if you could just keep him occupied —”

“Sure, whatever,” Bede huffs. “The wannabe Professor is always prying into my business anyway. Shouldn’t be too hard.” Privately he’s a little relieved he doesn’t have to make excessive conversation with Marnie, considering there’s no reason for him to even be here and he has no idea what to talk to her about.

Bea bows slightly. “I’ll make it up to you somehow, I promise.”

He waves one hand. “This doesn’t need to be blackmail, Bea. What do you take me for?”

Before she can answer, Marnie and Hop cut their conversation short to approach them, apparently summoned by Bede’s unintentional gesture. “Hey,” Marnie says cheerfully. “Glad you guys are catchin’ up, but we all still gotta do our makeup.”

“Makeup?” Hop echoes faintly.

“We can’t be attendin’ Piers’s concert without wearin’ the Team Yell colors,” Marnie says, nodding seriously. “That means face paint too.” Hop’s groan is cut off abruptly when she glares at him. “We’ve _gotta,_ Hop. It’s part of the fun.”

Bea shifts, clearly uncomfortable. “I apologize, but I haven’t much experience with makeup…”

Marnie shakes her head. “That’s okay, I’ve had a lotta practice with this stuff. Piers and I used’ta play with face paint and makeup all the time, growin’ up.” She looks from Bea to Hop to Bede. “I guess I’m doin’ everyone’s, then? I hope I can get ‘em done in time…”

With resignation and his conversation with Bea still fresh in mind, Bede realizes what he must do. Being a nice person sure is more effort than it's worth. “I can do his and mine,” he offers reluctantly, gesturing to Hop. “I mean, it would help things go faster.”

“Mm, that’d sure make it easier,” Marnie says, handing Bede her extra makeup kit and face paint. “I don’t wanna be late. That’s a real help.”

Hop raises an eyebrow at Bede. “Should I really trust you messing around with sharp objects near my eyes?”

“If you’re not fidgety like usual, I’m sure it will be fine,” Bede says coolly. “And it’s more time efficient this way.” Without waiting for approval, he grabs Hop by the wrist and tugs him away from the girls, and he spies a brief flash of gratitude in Bea’s eyes before she turns back to Marnie. “Bea wants to talk to Marnie more anyway. We’ll just get in the way.”

“You, being thoughtful of what someone else wants? Color me surprised.” 

“Drop it, _Professor.”_

Hop huffs but takes a seat, folding his arms across his chest. “Do you actually know what you’re doing with that?” he asks as Bede uncaps the eyeliner.

“I do,” Bede admits. 

“Part of Opal’s theater training?”

He can’t tell if he’s being teased. “Sort of. I learned by choice,” Bede says stiffly. “Now can you hold still?”

Hop frowns. “I’m not making fun of you for knowing makeup, you know. I was just curious.”

“Curious why, exactly?”

“Because it’s, I dunno, artsy? Do I have to have a reason for everything?” Hop… really _isn’t_ teasing him? “It doesn’t really surprise me, now that I think about it, since you usually look so pretty — chill, mate, it’s a compliment!”

Hop has mistaken Bede’s reddening cheeks for anger — probably for the best.”Hold still,” Bede repeats through gritted teeth. “Or I’ll poke your eye out with the eyeliner, and it may not be an accident. For the record, yes, Opal did teach me during my training, and no, I don’t wear makeup outside of most public appearances.” He’s trying to keep his hand steady, but Hop is blinking a _lot,_ and it’s awfully distracting. “What are you smirking about?”

“It’s just nice to hear you say anything about yourself,” Hop says. “You usually don’t.”

“There’s not much to discuss.” He finishes copying Marnie’s style of eyeliner onto Hop and moves onto the much faster, less precise job of applying the hot pink face paint in an X across Hop’s face. (There’s no point even trying mascara when Hop can’t sit still.) “Close your eyes.”

Hop twitches but complies. “What if I wanna hear what little there is?”

“Do you want me to stick my fingers into your eyes? Stop talking.”

“Okay, okay, fine.”

Hop talks too much, Bede thinks — always has, even back during their Gym Challenge. The only difference now is he doesn’t find it as annoying anymore. “Putting on a show is part of the spirit of the Ballonlea Gym,” Bede says once he’s stepped back from his handiwork. “Opal loves a dramatic Pokemon battle, so it’s only natural that I honor her both in attitude and style if I’m to take over the Gym. And yes, you can talk again.”

Hop lets out a breath. “The Ballonlea Gym Challenge was wild even back then. I don't know if I’d survive with _you_ running it.” 

“Well, I sure wouldn’t make it easy on you.” Bede does his best to quickly apply his own makeup using Marnie’s hand mirror, but it’s rushed and not quite up to his usual standards. At least it will probably be ruined anyway by the end of such a wild concert. The thought of such a rowdy, sweaty crowd makes his skin crawl. “Well? Ready to be pseudo-members of Team Yell?”

“Sure am,” Hop says, jumping up with a stretch. “For the record, though, that look doesn’t really suit you. I’m almost missing all the pink, actually.”

Bede laughs genuinely. “I'm aware I look a bit strange. But how flattering that my style has made such an impression on you.”

Hop shoves his shoulder, a casual gesture that startles him. “Ya know, I’m really glad you decided to come.”

What is Bede supposed to say to a thing like that?

He pretends he doesn’t hear at all.

* * *

“How’re ya likin’ the concert?”

Bea hums pensively, a sound all but drowned out by the yells of the crowd around them. “It’s not something I would have expected to like,” she admits. “It’s very loud. But the energy is very positive. Actually, it makes me feel fired up to train. Is that a weird thing to say?”

“Nah, I totally get it,” Marnie says with a grin. “It’s a very Spikemuth kinda thing. Everybody’s always liftin’ up each other.”

“That’s nice,” Bea replies, hating how lukewarm her own response sounds. She wants to express so many things: her gratitude, her happiness for being included, her fascination with Marnie who seems so _free,_ so unashamed to express herself; but habit keeps her voice measured and expression indifferent.

“I was kinda worried ya’d hate it,” Marnie says, glancing away from Bea.

“Oh,” Bea says, her internal panic screaming louder than the Team Yell goons in the front row. “I’m grateful you invited me. I’m just… not good at this, at being rowdy in public. I wish I could do better.”

Marnie shakes her head. “Nah, I knew this wasn’t gonna be everyone’s thing. I’m just glad ya came. Really though, lookit Bede over there. He looks like he’s dyin’. Should we throw him in the mosh pit? That’d be a real riot.” 

Her expression hasn’t changed, but the fire of mischief burns just beneath the surface, and a genuine chuckle escapes Bea’s lips, followed up by a strong wave of internal shame. “He’s a bit challenging, but he’s still our friend and fellow Gym Leader. I don’t think he quite deserves — uh, is something wrong?”

The previously stoic Marnie is now gaping. “Whoa, you really laughed.”

Discomfort gnaws at Bea’s gut as though she’d been caught in the midst of something disgraceful. “Ah… I’m sorry. It doesn’t suit me, does it?”

Marnie blinks. “Naw, what? I was just gonna say it’s cute when ya smile. I’m glad I could make ya laugh.” Now Marnie is smiling too, and it’s too much for Bea’s turbulent heart to handle. 

“Uh.” Bea can practically feel the gears in her mind grinding to a halt. “You think I’m cute?”

"Yeah, sure do," Marnie says, and she looks serious again. “Bea, can I kiss ya?”

Surely she misheard amidst all the noise of the concert. Or hallucinated. That too is a possibility. 

She nods.

It doesn’t escape Bea that Marnie is blushing before she leans in, that she bites her bottom lip for a fraction of a second, that her eyes are cast downward. She doesn’t understand why Marnie would be hesitant, she’s the confident one of the two of them — or maybe she’s not. Maybe neither of them are.

Bea wonders if it’ll be obvious she doesn’t know how to kiss anyone, but Marnie’s lips are only on her own for a moment, enough to feel her warmth and sense her nerves. Even as she sits stiff as a statue with her hands locked by her sides, Bea feels something in her own mind relax as Marnie tumbles off a pedestal she was never on.

“I think you’re real swell,” Marnie says earnestly, pulling back with pink cheeks and twirling one loose lock of black hair around her finger.

_Keep your emotions tempered,_ the self-disciplinarian voice in Bea’s mind chides her, even as the embarrassment and excitement and fluster fizzes up like a sugary soda downed secretly between workouts. “You’re cool,” Bea blurts. “You’re… pretty. ...I feel like an idiot.”

Marnie laughs, running a hand through her hair. “You’re awesome too,” she says. “You’re so strong. I was hopin’ we could hang out more.”

“Me too,” she admits, feeling dizzy. “Did you know I um, liked you? When you asked me to come…?”

Marnie blushes. “Um, I was hopin’? But I was worried all this was gonna scare ya off. Or that you’d think I was real weird. Spikemuth is… a lot. Team Yell is like family, but like... the kinda family you gotta always apologize for.”

“I thought you’d think I was boring,” Bea says, “so I suppose we’re even.”

Marnie shakes her head. “I’m not so good at makin’ friends outside my town. But ever since becomin’ Gym Leader, every time I saw you at events and the like, I kept almost askin’ you to hang out. But I dunno, I got all anxious.”

“Tell me about it,” Bea says, surprised to find this incredible girl she’d idolized is just as socially inept as she considers herself. “Let’s not second guess it anymore, then. After this is over, you can come to Stow-on-Side if you want… we can have a real date. There’s this really nice cafe with delicious spiced chai that’s too sweet to be healthy, but even so it’s a favorite of mine. I’d — I’d like to share it with you.”

“I'd like that,” Marnie agrees, taking Bea’s hand in her own and giving it a squeeze, and for the first time in a long while Bea doesn’t feel boring at all.

* * *

Every part of Bede’s body is strung up tight after the concert. His head is buzzing, and some indescribable anguish is churning within him. To make matters worse, Hop had followed him home after they’d parted from the girls, and Bede hadn’t thought to uninvite him until he was already fumbling with his key outside his apartment. Perhaps Hop had offered to hang out with him on the Flying Taxi ride back to Ballonlea and Bede had nodded, but if so he can’t remember a word of their conversation. 

All that replays in his mind is the scene of Marnie kissing Bea, and it makes him angry.

It had all been tolerable, _almost_ fun even, before that point. The concert had been loud and exhausting, the music not Bede’s style, and the experience of being surrounded by a bunch of sweaty members of Team Yell screaming their lungs out for Piers unpleasant. But he had cheered nonetheless, because it was what Marnie wanted, and because Hop too had cheered so enthusiastically that he hadn’t wanted to be the only one left out. By the last number Bede’s ears were ringing and he was missing the comfort of his oversized jacket and button down shirts, but Marnie was grateful and he had done his part to make her happy. Everything was fine.

And then... _that_ happened.

A normal friend with a normal level of compassion would be happy for the two of them, Bede thinks, but watching them sharing affection had been nothing short of uncomfortable. The horrible monster of jealousy he knows all too well had reared its ugly head, gnawing away at him until he can think of nothing else.

“I guess Marnie wound up reciprocating after all, huh?” Hop muses after they step inside. “I’m happy for Bea. Well, both of them. I saw them talking at Sonia and Leon's party actually, after you beat me up and stormed away." He nudges Bede's shoulder. 

Bede grunts.

"They’re both so nice, I think they suit each other.”

He frowns. “Whatever that even means.”

Hop tilts his head to one side. “It just means they get along well. No need to be so cynical.”

“It’s all subjective,” Bede says, fighting down an unexpected wave of rising panic. “People who _suit each other._ It’s just a meaningless thing to say.”

“Yeesh,” Hop says with a shake of his head. _“Extra_ cynical. Don’t let your fangirls hear you like that, you’ll crush their hearts.”

“As though I care.” The conversation topic could be literally anything else and it would still be less stressful than this one. “Go take a shower.”

Hop blinks. “Huh?”

“To get the face paint off,” Bede says. “Also, because we just spent the last few hours surrounded by sweaty strangers. If you want to stick around, you at least better be clean.”

“Uh — I can go home if I’m bugging you?”

Bede shakes his head, frustrated. This isn’t how he wants it to go, he doesn’t want Hop to _leave,_ that’s not fair. Well, perhaps it is fair, considering how he’s acting. But it’s not fair to his _feelings,_ which he expects Hop to pick up on without any communication, because Hop is supposed to be the perceptive one! “Just shower so I have time to make some tea,” Bede says, hating how curt the words sound.

“Tea? You don’t have to...”

“Well, I’m going to,” Bede snaps. “Now go make yourself presentable.”

“Yeesh. All right, _Mum_.” Raising his hands in mock defeat, Hop slowly sidles out of the room. 

Bede tries to keep himself busy in the minutes that follow; while he boils water for tea, he sets out fresh sheets and a pillow on the sofa (he’s not even sure Hop wants to stay the night, what is he doing?) and waits. If this wasn’t his own damn apartment, he would be out the door while Hop showers. Perhaps he could still leave. Perhaps he could escape to Glimwood Tangle and not have to deal with this, escape from Hop’s prying eyes by melting into the softly lit luminescent shadows of the Fairy forest, spiriting himself away like a witch.

(No, he can’t just run. Of course he can’t.)

He’s scared. For the first time in his life, Bede has a friend — a friend _group_ even, for that matter! — and that’s something he never would have thought possible. He doesn’t want to lose that.

But —

Every time he looks at Hop he feels lightheaded, his breathing constricted from vines of anxiety wrapping around his throat. He’s a gentle, genuine soul ( _who_ _you tried to quash out of pure spite, don’t forget it,_ his mind jeers) and he doesn’t treat talking to Bede like a chore. And Hop has such a warm smile, not like the secretive smiles Bede is used to, a smile that lets him relax rather than pressuring him to work harder. It's a smile that he doesn't feel like he has to impress. 

It’s not a smile he deserves. Bede has never been a good person.

* * *

“Did you not see I put sheets and a pillow out for you?”

When Bede returns from one very long, very unfocused shower, he finds Hop has let his Dubwool out of its Pokeball and is lounging against its springy coat like a pillow, idly scrolling on his Rotom Phone. Half-submerged in Dubwool’s fluff, Hop looks like he’s being swallowed up in woolly quicksand. “You look absurd,” Bede says, rolling his eyes when Hop simply grins and waves. “You’re not going to sleep on the sofa? It pulls out into a bed, you know.”

“Nah, I’m comfy like this,” Hop says with a grin. “Dubwool is the best pillow.” His Pokemon heaves a contented sigh in response to Hop’s words. “C’mon, join me. You’ll never wanna sleep in a bed again.”

“Join you? On your Pokemon? Pass.” _That would be far too close to you, Hop._ “I’m going to my real bed, thank you very much.”

Hop shakes his head. “Just lie down for a second, you’ll see what I mean.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You just don’t want to admit that I’m right and that Dubwool is the fluffiest ever.”

“Are you already half asleep? You’re speaking nonsense.” 

“You’re going to make Dubwool sad,” Hop says with feigned solemnity, and his Pokemon snorts.

Bede grits his teeth. “Okay, you get one minute _max._ And it’s because I don’t want to offend your Pokemon. Not for you.” With a huff he sits beside Hop and lets himself lean into Dubwool’s coat, the curls tickling his cheeks as he sinks into the pillow of a Pokemon.

“You camouflage pretty well in there,” Hop says with a snort of laughter. “Maybe you were a Wooloo in your past life.”

Experimentally Bede rolls to one side, eliciting a gentle sigh from Dubwool. The Pokemon’s body warmth lulls him to relaxation; if he closes his eyes for a moment too long, he could drift off in an instant. “Soft,” Bede says quietly.

“Isn’t he? I’ve been taking naps with him since he was a Wooloo.” With a hum of contentment, Hop lies down next to him, turning to face Bede amidst the sea of fluff. “Don’t worry, he likes being used as a pillow.” In response, Dubwool bleats happily, and Bede buries his face deeper to hide the twitch of a smile. 

“Rapidash doesn’t like getting his mane messed up,” Bede says, the words barely flowing as he slips into drowsiness. “If I tried to sleep on him, he'd probably kick me in the gut. Also, I should… get up. Or I’m going to fall asleep.”

“That’s fine,” Hop says gently, and Bede feels his pulse quicken even through the haze of exhaustion. “You can sleep here. Dubwool is plenty comfy.”

“I’m not going to sleep on the floor,” Bede mutters.

“Don’t see you getting up.” Hop doesn’t sound very awake.

Bede swallows. “When I studied Psychic-type Pokemon, there was a lot about dream therapy — putting the subject to sleep, then using Dream Eater to remove the nightmares. I suppose a Psychic-type isn’t as necessary after all. That is to say, Dubwool’s warmth is enough to sedate even those resistant to Hypnosis. You and your Pokemon, both providing free therapy.” What in the world is he blathering about? He's much too tired to form a coherent train of thought right now.

It doesn’t matter, anyway. When Bede turns to face him, Hop’s eyes are closed and his breathing gentle. “Bored you to sleep, huh?”

Hop… is very close. Bede would never _fathom_ making a move on a sleeping person, but at the very least he’s enjoying the view of Hop’s peaceful sleeping face. While Hop sleeps, Bede can pretend everything is all right and that his emotions haven’t gone haywire; he can live the fantasy that waking up next to Hop is what’s right and natural.

They're just having a sleepover. That's what it is, for sure. It's not like he'd even know what that's like.

Bede has never fallen asleep next to another person before. When he had nightmares as a child, there had been nowhere to crawl under the covers and hide, no parents to stroke his hair and tell him it was just a dream. He’s not used to the presence of another person, especially not when he’s in such a vulnerable state. But at this point, getting up is too much effort.

It’s comfortable here.

* * *

Hop has to choke back a startled yelp when he awakes far, _far_ too close to his friend for comfort.

He remembers feeling drowsy after his shower and lying down. After that, it’s all a vague blur of exhaustion. Leon used to tease him for babbling in his sleep when he was little, and Hop can only pray he’d quashed the habit and hadn’t said anything mortifying before dozing off.

With a silent exhalation he props himself up on one arm to look at Bede. He’s regrettably pretty, Hop thinks, those pale eyelashes of his casting tiny shadows on his cheeks as he sleeps. He has the sort of face that makes you forget that he has a vicious attitude and sharp tongue — at least when he’s asleep and his expression is gentle. Then again, it’s that odd contrast between his delicate features and scathing comments that makes him… intriguing?

An interesting friend?

...Attractive?

Hop can practically _sense_ Leon out there, mocking him for his frilly thoughts. _As though you don’t think the same about Sonia,_ Hop thinks sourly before realizing he’s arguing with someone who’s not even there about a situation that’s (hopefully) not equivalent, which is truly a new low of pointlessness.

Beside him, Bede suddenly stretches and sits up. Hop jumps, irrationally worried his last train of thought had been audible. “G’morning,” Bede murmurs sleepily, and Hop’s heart stutters. “Did I really… fall asleep on Dubwool?”

“Yeah, we both did.” Hop laughs too loudly. “He loves being snuggled, don’t even worry about it.” In affirmation, the Pokemon bleats once, softly. _Thanks for backing me up there, buddy. Somebody has to._

Bede’s eyes blink open. “Ugh, I think I slept too much. Had some strange dreams.”

“About?”

“None of your business,” he says, amiable as ever. “Would you like some pancakes?”

“You don’t have to make me food,” Hop says hurriedly. 

Bede glowers back at him. “I’m making breakfast either way. Do you want pancakes or do you want to sit at my table and watch me eat them alone?”

“Okay, okay, fine, I’ll take pancakes!” If there’s anything he’s learned in the past day, it’s that Bede is an _aggressively_ polite host, and arguing with what he offers will just make the situation more awkward. “Sure you don’t want any help in the kitchen?”

“I’d rather just do it myself. It makes me feel busy.”

Hop shrugs and flops back onto the fluff of his Pokemon, who bleats back at him. “If you say so.” From a safe distance he watches Bede rifling through the open fridge, observing his slender fingers and spindly limbs for… no particular reason. “You’re left-handed, yeah?”

Bede stops what he’s doing and turns around. “Yes, and?”

“And — nothing,” Hop says, rolling his eyes. “I was just asking.

“For no real purpose?”

“Does everything have to have some deep meaning behind it? Just making conversation.”

“Well —” Bede places a carton of eggs decorated with a Rookidee logo on the counter and shuts the refrigerator door. “Dreadful topic. I couldn’t think of a more boring lead if I tried.”

Hop laughs. “Okay, I’d like to see you do better.”

“Conversation isn’t my forte,” he states, surprisingly forthright, “so I’ll decline the challenge. Also, if you keep distracting me, it’ll be dinnertime before these pancakes are finished.”

The day before, Bede had said something similar while helping Hop with makeup, that he couldn’t focus when Hop was chattering. Hop wonders if Bede generally has a hard time double tasking, or if he’s distracted by Hop specifically. The latter certainly is an amusing thought, but Hop doesn’t want to risk incurring any wrath by asking when Bede has eggs within arm’s length and Hop has no projectiles handy. “Sorry. Silence just feels kinda weird when there's another person around.”

“I could put on some music.”

Hop sighs. “Are you sure we can’t just… talk? I’ll stop bugging you, but…”

“About what?”

“About anything. About yourself, that would be nice to hear. Memories from training, or from before I knew you… if you want. You, um, obviously don’t have to.”

“This again?” For a fleeting moment Bede ceases moving, suspended in indecision. “All right, fine. I’ll talk a little. If that’s — if that’s really what you want.”

He’s surprised Bede agreed so fast but is afraid to mention it lest he shatter the fragile moment. “Only if you’re sure.”

A shrug. “I don’t have any memories of a family,” Bede says. “Well, no real ones, anyway. I think my child brain may have fabricated some hazy flashbacks of parents in the vain hope I would fully remember them someday. Didn’t happen. I grew up hated by the children around me. I always spoke my mind and they didn’t like it. I got into a lot of fights. No one would adopt me because everyone knew I was vicious.”

Hop can tell it’s best not to interject. He waits. 

“Rose came by one day and gave me Hattena. I still don’t really know why. I think he believed I could better channel my anger and competitive spirit into Pokemon battles. I went to a Trainer’s School for a while. My teachers there didn’t like me either. Then when the time was right, I was endorsed for the Gym Challenge.” Even without seeing Bede’s face, Hop can hear the dull pain seething beneath the surface. “Is that enough backstory for you, nosy Professor?”

“I’m not a Professor yet,” Hop reminds him even as his heartbeat stutters. _Of all the scathing nicknames to affect me, it has to be that one._

“All right, my mistake — is that enough for you, unaccomplished wannabe Professor?”

Hop laughs, then wonders how far gone he must be to laugh at an insult. “That’s more like it.” Bede is still searching his face, desperately, for an answer. “Anything you want to tell me is enough for me,” Hop says a little more quietly. “Thanks for opening up, it means a lot. Really. Especially 'cause you didn't have to. And… you know, all that’s behind you. All that stuff about people not liking you, I mean.” He waits for Bede to reply, but the other’s eyes stay fixated on the table in front of him without a word. Hop swallows.

The two are silent as the pancakes finish sizzling and Bede offloads them onto a fresh plate. Hop watches him methodically serve them both pancakes, then pour fresh tea and set a small dish of sugar on the table with a tiny spoon. It’s all very quaint and oddly relaxing to watch. But it’s strained, too. Each action is controlled and deliberate, and Bede is obviously stifling himself to put on that proper image. He thinks back to the wild, violent energy Bede had displayed at his house, the opposite of whatever he’s trying to be right now, and Hop finds himself actually missing it.

“Are you going to eat, or just stare at me?”

“Yeah,” Hop replies before the question registers. “Uh, yeah, I’ll eat.” With the side of his fork he cuts a too-large slice of pancake and shoves it into his mouth, chewing desperately and avoiding eye contact. 

Bede clears his throat. “I hope everything is satisfactory.”

Hop swallows quickly. “The pancakes are fine, mate. No need to act so formal — I can tell it’s killing you.”

Bede exhales. “I’ve never had a guest,” he says, tapping his index finger on the table. “I don’t know how to be a decent host.”

“We’re friends,” Hop reminds him, catching himself before rolling his eyes lest he embarrass Bede further. “You don’t have to stop talking shit just because you’re making me breakfast.”

That, at least, gets a chuckle out of Bede. “Thanks for the permission to be an asshole, oh great and holy hero of Galar. Everything in my life has led up to this one moment. Now I can wander into the heart of Glimwood Tangle and die there, knowing my life was fulfilled.”

“That’s more like it.”

The laughter dies away again. “And regarding what I said before, about — about _me_ — it’s in the past. Just don’t —” He squirms in his seat. “Focus on it.”

"Hey, you never have to talk about it again if you don't wanna."

"...Thanks."

Hop looks at the young man in front of him, an angry mess of bottled up anxiety and doubt and bitterness towards a life dealt many unlucky cards; a man whose spiteful words had once dug deep and shattered parts of him he’d thought were unbreakable. Recently, this same man has somehow captured Hop’s affections, his teasing unleashing a flurry of anxious Butterfree in his stomach, his rare genuine smile unexpectedly pretty. There’s more beneath the prickly, sarcastic surface than Hop had realized, and he can’t help but want to be there for that part of Bede, guiding him through the feelings he had kept internal for so many years. As his friend, or — his chest swoops nervously at the thought — maybe even beyond that.

_Thanks for this train of thought, Lee. I'm never going to forgive you for this._

He thinks back to Bede curled up in the fluff of Dubwool, sleepy and vulnerable, and in that moment Hop really, really had wanted to kiss him. Admitting that to himself hurts.

He'd chided Bede for acting jealous towards Bea, when secretly he had felt the same.

“Hey, Bede.”

“Mm.”

Hop laces his fingers together, trying not to picture Leon’s smirking face teasing him. He can’t let his inhibitions and the expectations of others hold him back like they had during the Gym Challenge. The Hop he wants to be is a Hop who takes risks to get what he wants, even if it means potentially steering his entire life into new and uncharted waters.

_Zacian, Zamazenta… give me strength._

“Would you like to… go on a, uh, real date?”

Bede swallows a sip of tea too loudly and too quickly and begins to cough. Before Hop can move to help him avoid choking, Bede quickly raises his palm, a silent plea to keep space between them, and Hop is forced to suffer as a bystander while Bede splutters and struggles to catch his breath.

The coughing stops, and Bede stares down at the table. “Um.”

Hop swallows, sensing a misstep. A potentially _severe_ misstep. He's not even a hundred percent sure this is what _he_ wants. But he’d known the risks of approaching this subject beforehand, and he holds his ground even as his palms grow clammy. For a while Bede remains frozen, and all Hop can think is that he has just set their already tenuous friendship back, and just as Bede was starting to open up to him, too. “Uh, you know what, never m—”

Bede snaps his fingers — actually _snaps_ them, like conceited, swanky bastard he is — and Hop immediately falls silent with a grimace. Before Hop can reprimand him for not asking for a moment of silence to think _with his words_ like a normal person would, Bede finally speaks again. “So just to clarify — is the implication of asking me on a ‘real date’ that we have already somehow gone on fake dates?”

Hop scowls. “Oi, is now really the time to be difficult?”

Surprisingly, Bede laughs. It has a tinge of that haughty, grating quality of his — but it’s still a laugh. “Even now, you fall for the basest of taunts. How amusing.” Before Hop can splutter a retort, Bede’s expression shifts to something more guarded. “To be quite honest, I don’t know what to say to your offer. I feel unequipped to accept.”

“I’m not sure what that means?”

Bede’s hand raises to shield his mouth, and Hop can see that despite his bravado, Bede is actually nervous. “I’ve only just begun to accept that we’re actually — actually friends,” he mumbles through his fingers. “And you expect me to then — to then believe that you also feel…?”

“Yeah,” Hop says lamely. “I mean, um, I _do_ feel that way, for what that’s worth.” 

_I_ _think I do, anyway. At least, I'm definitely beginning to, whether I like it or not._

“Even though I’ve been, as you would put it, ‘difficult?’”

“Maybe even because of that.”

It’s only when Bede smirks that Hop realizes — and regrets — the implication of his words. “I didn’t take you for a masochist, Professor,” Bede sneers. “I’ll file that one away for the future.”

“Please don’t.”

Bede chuckles. “But really, I always pictured this going differently.”

Hop swallows. _He’s been picturing it?_ “How so?”

His cheeks redden. “Well, the most likely scenario was that I never brought it up and lived with my own troublesome emotions until I keeled over and died.”

Now it’s Hop’s turn to laugh. “Oi, where’s the fun in that?”

“I was… afraid to feel that way about you,” Bede whispers, and Hop realizes with a pleasant jolt that yes, his inexplicable pining had been reciprocated after all — and no, he’s not just dreaming amidst the comfort of Dubwool’s fluff. “I’ve always admired you. Even… back then.”

“That’s rubbish.”

Bede shakes his head. “I thought you were too reasonable to ever give me a chance. Turns out you have no taste after all.”

“Hey, you don’t really think that about yourself, do you?”

Bede says nothing.

“Bede.”

“Well, you’re — a nice person,” Bede grits out. “You, Bea, Marnie — all nice people who deserve nice people. Whereas I’m —”

“Hey,” Hop interrupts gently, not letting Bede say it. “Why don’t you come hang out at my place?”

Bede blinks. “Right now?”

Hop nods. “Yeah, since you were such an insufferable asshole at our house before, this can be your chance to make up for it. And I — I want to share my family with you.” Maybe Bede will find his words patronizing, or maybe he won’t. It’s always a toss up with him. “My mom’s nice when she’s not being embarrassing. We can go hang out in Postwick, if you want. Say, have you ever been to the Slumbering Weald?”

“Huh? Uh — not really. I wouldn’t know my way around without getting lost, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Then I’ll take you,” Hop says. “It’s a neat place. Kinda like Glimwood Tangle, only more fog and less sparkly stuff. And you can come over after, if you want, since it’s right by my house. W-well, you know where my house is. You were there.”

Bede furrows his eyebrows. “Is this one of the ‘real dates’ you offered before?” Bede looks angry, but Hop is starting to realize that expression actually means he’s nervous. "Taking me into a creepy forest and then humiliating me in front of your mother?"

“Hey, don't put it like that! And no, this doesn’t have to be a date. We can keep hanging out as — as friends for a while. If you want.”

Bede scoffs. “D-don’t ask me on a date and then not commit to it! You really are pathetic sometimes. Just get your feelings out without backtracking! Chin up and put your best foot forward!”

_He sounds like he’s trying to imitate Opal, and it’s kind of hilarious._ Hop should be insulted that Bede just called him pathetic without taking the risk himself, but he just laughs. “You’re really not one to talk, you know.”

“I can’t believe this,” Bede huffs, turning pink. “I’m getting my coat. I refuse to let you waffle on the matter any longer. It’s hard to watch.”

With no shortage of amusement, Hop watches him stomp back to his room.

_You know you could just say you want to come, right?_

* * *

“I can’t see my hand in front of my face.”

Hop sighs. Bede assumes Hop is rolling his eyes at him, but he’s too focused on walking without tripping on a tree root to look at him. “It’s all right, I wouldn’t let you walk into the river. Probably."

"Comforting."

Hop chuckles. "Anyway, we’re here.”

From the direction of the altar emerges a massive silhouette, padding on all fours towards them. Bede tenses. “Is that…?”

Hop just grins. “Hey, Zacian. I want you to meet my — my friend.”

The stutter in Hop’s voice is satisfying and doesn’t escape Bede’s attention, but he’s too distracted to comment as the Pokemon pads towards them through the fog. Bede can make out the shape before it emerges, an imposing wolf still regal even without the adornments of the Rusted Sword. He had never stood in the presence of a Legendary Pokemon before, though he had certainly heard the tales of how Hop and the Champion had stopped Eternatus from destroying Galar and pacified Zacian and Zamazenta. How is one supposed to act in this situation? Should he stand still or bow, make an offering or challenge the Pokemon to a battle?

The choice is made for him: Zacian suddenly barrels towards him at full force.

“O-oi — !” Before Bede can reflect on his pitifully short life, his cheeks are assaulted with wet, slobbery dog kisses as Zacian knocks him to the ground, paws pinning his chest and tail wagging. “Hop. _Hop!_ Is this — is this normal?”

His companion just laughs. “Aw, Zacian really likes you! Maybe because you like Fairy-types. Is that right, Zacian? Do you have a special bond with Bede?”

With a goofy bark, Zacian continues wagging its tail, and Bede awkwardly reaches up with one hand to scratch the Pokemon under the chin. “I thought Zacian was supposed to be the hero of Galar’s legends,” he mutters. “It acts… well, just like you.”

“Since when have I licked your face?”

“That is _not_ what I meant,” Bede growls, but it’s hard to be irritated when there’s a giant smiling dog on top of him. “You’re not what I expected,” he admits to the Pokemon. “No offense intended.” Zacian barks happily, licking Bede’s cheek once more before jumping off and bounding back over to Hop. Bede leans up slowly, a bit frazzled. “Thanks for… uh, introducing me.”

“Of course,” Hop says, patting Zacian’s head with the beaming smile of a proud parent. “Ya know, it surprised me too, how nice Zacian was. I thought for being a Legendary Pokemon, it had to be more intimidating. Life finds ways of surprising you, huh? With people, too.”

_“_ Don’t make this a life lesson about _me,_ ” Bede hisses. “Just don’t.”

And Hop just laughs.

* * *

“Hey, Marnie texted me that she’s getting the gang together for pizza in a half hour,” Hop says, slipping out of his shoes as he steps into his house.

“The ‘gang?’” Bede echoes airily. “Please tell me you don’t mean Team Yell, the _actual_ gang.”

Hop snorts. “No, our friend group,” he says, which takes a moment for Bede to register, because _oh right — he’s a part of one of those now._ "Marnie, Bea, and Allister. Wanna go to Circhester after and meet up with them?”

“Uh, okay,” Bede says, which is the most enthusiastic he can manage as _I have friends?_ repeats itself over and over in his mind. “Based on the the frequency with which we keep winding up there, you’d think there was only one pizza place in all of Galar.”

Before Hop can reply and continue the banter, his mother pokes her head around the wall to greet them. “Oh, Bede!” She clasps her hands together. “Have you eaten lunch? I’d love to make you one of your favorite dishes.”

“Um,” Bede says, flushing. “No need to go to extra effort for me. I’m fine.”

“It’s no effort at all for a friend of Hop’s,” she says.

There's that word, _friend_ , again.

“Say, I heard you two got fairly rowdy at Sonia and Leon’s party.”

Hop tenses beside him. “My apologies,” Bede says. “I —”

She just laughs. “I didn’t think too much of it when Sonia told me. Hop has always been so physical with his affection.”

“Mum,” Hop croaks weakly.

She ignores him. “When he was little, he couldn't even fall asleep unless he was cuddling his Wooloo. You’re a very _contact_ person, aren’t you? You’ve described yourself that way, Hop.”

_“Mum.”_

“Anyway, I’m so glad the two of you are getting along,” Hop’s mother says without a care in the world for her son’s rising embarrassment. “Would you like something to drink, Bede?”

The image of a peacefully sleeping Hop cuddling his Dubwool has returned to haunt him. “I’d take some tea, if it’s truly no trouble,” Bede manages timidly even as his cheeks prickle with rising heat.

“How polite,” Hop’s mother says. “Hop, you sure picked one with good manners.” Privately Bede thinks that’s an absolutely ludicrous thing to say about someone who thrashed their kid on the floor of his own room, but he holds his tongue. “I’ll get that tea started, no trouble at all.”

The amiable woman retreats to the kitchen, and Bede turns back to Hop, still unable to process this level of hospitality. “Must be nice,” he mumbles, immediately kicking himself for the jealous tone. “No, I mean — _she’s_ very nice.”

Hop clearly feels awkward, pressing his lips together as he struggles to respond. “I can’t imagine what that must have been like,” he says finally. “Without — without family.”

“Well, I can’t imagine what it’s like to _have_ it, so I suppose we’re even,” Bede snaps — then sighs. Taking his bitterness out on Hop, who’s only trying to comfort him, is completely unproductive. “I do have family now in Opal, in a manner of speaking. And I have the other Gym Leaders, who have frankly been more supportive than I expected. There’s no point wallowing in self pity when it doesn’t change anything.” Letting his eyes flutter shut for a moment, he takes a deep breath, focusing on the regulated rise and fall of his chest, anything to prevent another outburst. There has to be something in the air at this house, Bede thinks, that makes him want to get into a fight for no reason whatsoever.

Hop watches him too close with those sympathetic eyes of his. “You have me too,” he says finally. “But, um… you’re allowed to be angry about my family if it helps. I’d probably feel the same in your position.”

Bede shakes his head. “No, it doesn’t help. And… thank you. For…” His throat closes, embarrassed tears stinging the corners of his eyes.

“Bede.”

“Huh?”

Hop grins. “Don’t pull a muscle trying to get the words out, okay? I get it. You don’t have to say anything.”

Bede scowls.

Hop’s mother returns with a warm smile and pot of tea. “Would you like any sugar, dear?”

“I’m all right, thank you,” Bede mumbles, trying and failing to maintain his composure in the face of such painfully gentle treatment.

“We’re actually going out soon, Mum,” Hop says, “so we can’t stick around and chat.” Bede can’t tell if he wants to get away from his embarrassing mother or if he’s trying to spare Bede the awkwardness of talking to her.

“You could join us too if you’d like,” Bede says reflexively, just to be polite. Hop glares at him. “We’re going to Circhester for pizza.”

Hop’s mother just laughs. “I appreciate the offer, but why don’t you kids just have fun on your date?”

“It’s not a date,” Hop squeaks. “We’re meeting our friends.”

“It _could_ be a date,” Bede blurts without thinking, hating himself for it a moment later, “b-but, no, it is not. By choice.”

By this point, Hop has flushed red up to his ears. “Okay, okay, we’re out of here. Don’t wanna be late. Thanks, Mum. Real helpful. Bye.”

Bede still wants to fight, but this time the person he wants to fight is himself.

* * *

Marnie and Bea sit next to one another on one side of the table, leaning into each other when they laugh, and Bede sits beside Hop, too self conscious to act the same. At the head of the table sits Allister who, after removing his mask to eat, has sunk as far down into his chair as he can manage without sliding off onto the floor.

They split the pizza toppings two ways: one half with meat for Bea and Hop, and the other with an assortment of vegetables for Marnie and Bede. (Allister assures them in his barely audible voice that he’s not very hungry, and he contents himself with sipping a chocolate shake and nibbling on breadsticks.) Hop once again teases Bede for cutting the pizza with a knife, but this time Bede is able to tease back when a line of grease dribbles down Hop’s chin and splatters the tablecloth unceremoniously.

It’s… nice. Suspiciously nice, even. Bede can’t remember the last time he felt this warm and comfortable around a group of people his own age.

“Um,” Allister says, and when four pairs of eyes fall on him at once, he proceeds to take a very long, very drawn-out _slurp_ of his shake. “I’d — I’d like to hear about how the concert was… if that’s all right. I saw some of it on the telly, b-but… it’d be better straight from you all, I think.”

“Loud,” Bede says. “And sweaty.”

Marnie raises an eyebrow. “That’s all you have’ta say?”

He dabs his chin with his napkin, purposely dainty and calculatedly irritating. “Yes, yes it is.”

“Er, all right, let’s get a second opinion,” Hop says, ever the peacekeeper. “Bea?”

“It wasn’t really my usual type of music,” she admits, “but it was a good experience with good friends. You would have definitely gotten a headache though, Allister. It’s good you stayed back. I picked you up a CD though for later, if you wanna listen at a lower volume.”

Allister nods thoughtfully. “I’m sorry… I wish I could manage better.”

“S’all good,” Marnie says. “At least you’re not an asshole ‘bout it.” She smiles thinly at Bede.

Bede dabs his chin.

“Yeah, it’s okay to have different levels of tolerance than other people,” Hop says, lightly hitting Bede’s foot with his own under the table. Bede kicks him in the shin. “We can watch recordings together later,” Hop continues through a wheeze of pain. “Get a bunch of snacks, like a private viewing.”

Allister’s dull gaze lights up. “Blanket fort…”

“If we’re makin’ a blanket fort, we gotta tell scary stories after,” Marnie hums. 

“N-no we don’t,” Hop stammers, and Bede quietly files away this new information about for another time. “We don’t, right, Bede?”

“What are you looking at me for?” Bede says, feigning innocence. “Are you scared?”

“Ghosts are cute…” Allister interjects. Bede has noticed his willingness to speak up has increased lately. In a strange way, he feels almost proud of him. “Nothing to be scared of.”

Hop huffs. “Oh yeah, real cute to have your soul sucked out your body.”

“Bede’s not scared ‘cause he has no soul,” Marnie says, taking a long sip from of her root beer to punctuate the point. Beside her, Bea smiles silently.

Bede just shrugs. 

When had it become so easy to talk to them all like this? When had they crossed the line from Gym Leaders and contemporaries to real friends? They’d all influenced him too, and for the better; Hop optimistic and listening to his woes, Bea and Allister worrying about him, Marnie inviting him to the concert.

He nudges Hop’s foot more gently this time.

Hop kicks him in the shin.

* * *

_I’m so unfocused today. I just want work to be over._

_Shouldn’t you be working instead of talking to me?_ comes the return text from Bede.

_I’m on break,_ Hop types indignantly. _I already have Sonia here, I don’t need you bossing me around too._

_It’s irresponsible to contact me at work, especially when we already have plans to see one another later. You will never succeed as a Professor with that lack of focus._

“Can you believe the nerve of that guy?” Hop grumbles, though there’s no real bite to it, and Sonia raises an eyebrow. “Bede says I shouldn’t even message him at work, even when I’m taking a break, because it’s apparently _irresponsible.”_ With a huff he sets his Rotom Phone face down on the desk in front of him. “We made plans to hang out later, and I can’t even talk to him beforehand!”

“No need to involve me in your little lovers’ spat,” Sonia says.

_No need to call it that, either._ "Thanks, you're very helpful," Hop says instead, rolling his eyes.

“If you have the energy to complain, you must have the energy to go pick us up some lunch, yeah?”

“Eh? Right now?”

“And get something for Leon too while you’re at it,” Sonia says cheerfully. “He’s coming over in a few. Thanks a bunch, Hop. You’re a great assistant. Extra _responsible,_ too.”

With Sonia willfully missing the point, Hop is regretfully forced to run the errand, trying not to think about how Bede would laugh at him for giving in to her so easily. _You’re sure easily played,_ Bede would sneer at him, brushing his hair aside from his forehead with cocky flair. _Say, Hop — how about you buy me lunch, too? What a doting professor you are._

In a desperate attempt to banish his embarrassingly escalating train of thought, Hop slams the sandwiches down on the table when he returns, startling Sonia and Leon both.

“What’s up?” Leon asks, too cheerful for his liking. 

“Enjoy your lunch,” Hop grumbles, not about to admit the bizarre fantasies seeping through his otherwise (mostly) rational thoughts, and still Leon laughs at his expense as he always does.

Hop spends the rest of the day ignoring his phone (and his brother), but it’s difficult to focus knowing he has plans with Bede later. Not just plans, but _date_ plans, which is still hard to wrap his mind around even now. Of course their relationship is leagues better than it had been several months prior when Bede barely tolerated his presence, but it’s not one of full disclosure and unabashed trust by any means. It’s still difficult to get anything straightforward out of Bede without peeling back layers of prickly barbs and shield of sarcasm.

And there’s certainly sentiments of his own Hop hasn’t admitted to Bede, he thinks with chagrin, glancing over at Sonia and Leon’s conversation as he packs his belongings. He hasn’t told Bede about the challenge of finding himself after diverging his path from Leon’s, the frustration of still being treated like a child by someone he used to idolize unconditionally, the seemingly impossible feat of ever becoming his own person besides “Leon’s little brother” or “Sonia’s assistant” or even “the guy who tamed Zacian a few years back.”

(Hopefully he doesn’t have to add “the person the Ballonlea Gym Leader is dating” to his ever growing list of identity crises.)

Upon hearing the knock on the Research Lab door, Hop realizes he’s been gripping the desk a bit too tightly. With a sigh he relaxes his hand and slaps his cheeks lightly, once, twice — with both palms, to exorcise the negativity out of him before his date. If he goes into this with a bad attitude, Bede will definitely notice and feel extra awkward. Hop knows how much Bede had even struggled to ask him out today in the first place — no need to make it even _more_ painful by mixing his own issues into it.

“Don’t keep your boyfriend waiting,” Leon says as Hop approaches the door, more condescending than he has any right to be.

Ever since Piers’s concert, Hop has begun to notice when Bede wears makeup, and now is definitely one of those times — not that he even needs it, with his already striking light eyelashes and pretty features. He’s dressed up a bit too, with a white button down shirt with a pink vest and cufflinks — a rather snobbish accessory he somehow pulls off — crisp slacks, and glittering earrings. Everything’s very coordinated and very put together; even his nails are trimmed and glossy.

He looks… really good.

...And then there’s Hop, standing there mouth agape with a lab coat on top of his regular jacket, completely not dressed for a date at all. _Even now, the flashy bastard has to one-up me, huh?_

“Suddenly, you seem a bit underdressed,” Leon says with a laugh, which is true, but — the remark is irritating coming from _him._ Can’t Leon mind his business for once in his life? Hop feels his own mouth twitching into a snarl but says nothing, desperate not to make a scene and give Leon the satisfaction.

“Bold words coming from the man who wears snapbacks with suits,” Bede says smoothly as Hop struggles to suppress his own retort. “But I suppose that’s a suitable underwhelming fashion choice for you, considering your current position in the Pokemon League was a default hand-me-down from a man who almost destroyed the entire Galar region. That aside, I’m here for the future Professor, not the washed-up past Champion.” 

Stunned into silence by the sudden onslaught, Leon closes his mouth, and Sonia watches from behind with an expression that could only be described as aghast. It would be almost hilarious if it wasn’t so… no, actually, it _is_ kind of hilarious, albeit at his brother’s expense.

Bede swoops forward to take Hop’s hand in his own, smirking with all the impish delight of a Skitty about to knock a glass of water off a table. “This conversation is a waste of our time, wouldn’t you say?”

And then, right there in the middle of the lab, in front of Leon and Sonia and Sonia’s wiggling Yamper, Bede pulls him into a kiss.

The startled noise that leaves his own throat is completely undignified, but before he shuts his eyes he spies Bede’s cheeks flush, and it’s comforting somehow that Bede is equally mortified by his own spontaneous gesture. Bede sure tries to lay it on thick with the suave guy act in public, but he's far more easily flustered than he lets on, which is… adorable, really. And also kind of smugly satisfying.

Of course, any visible sign of Bede’s nerves has vanished by the time they pull apart, and he casually straightens his vest as Leon and Sonia stare in abashed silence. “You look embarrassed,” Bede says coolly, making direct eye contact with Leon. “Aren’t you two dating? You’d think you’d be used to displays affection by this point.” He turns to Sonia. “Perhaps the two of you should work on that in your own relationship.”

Hop is trying so _hard_ not to laugh, but Sonia’s indignant expression and quickly reddening cheeks are making it challenging. “Don’t be difficult,” he chides fondly. “Sonia has the power to give me overtime if she’s mad. Then I won’t be able to come on our date.”

“I’d wait for you,” Bede says, and Hop’s heart does a little flip. “But very well. I’ll be outside, then. Gather your belongings and meet me at the door. We’re going to Turffield. I have Rapidash ready.”

Damn it all. Blushing or not, this guy is a _prince._

A vicious prince, sure — but still a prince.

“Didn’t you say he wasn’t flashy enough to show up at the door on that sparkly horse of his?” Leon teases after Bede is out of earshot.

“Put a sock in it,” Hop grumbles, aggressively grabbing his bag from off the desk. “I’m surprised you can still even form coherent thought after Bede roasted away the last of your dignity. Later.”

Ignoring Leon’s laughter following him out the door, he leaves to meet up with Bede outside.

“Took you long enough,” Bede teases.

Hop chooses to that.“You didn’t have to be so harsh on those two, you know.”

Bede raises an eyebrow. “Please. You could hardly keep a straight face in there. You’re hardly allowed to laugh, then reprimand me a moment later.”

“You’re really so difficult,” Hop chides, a word that’s become a term of endearment as of late. “But all right, you win.”

“Of course I do,” Bede says smugly, and in one graceful motion he lifts himself onto Rapidash’s back and holds out a hand to Hop.

He ignores the gesture, stubbornly climbing up on his own, though much less gracefully. After a moment’s hesitation secures his arms around Bede’s waist. “You know, clinging to you like this makes me feel kinda like an idiot.”

Bede scoffs. “Either you can get over it, or fall off the moment we take off. Your choice.”

Hop hugs his waist tighter in response. “I’ll take feeling like an idiot over breaking every bone in my body, thank you very much.”

Turning his head to look at Hop, Bede flashes him a wicked grin, one that toys with Hop’s emotions in ways he’d rather not admit. “Smart choice, Professor.”

* * *

“I have something for you,” Hop says.

They’ve settled on the hill by Turffield, side by side on a park bench watching the sun’s rays dip down under the horizon. “That’s awfully vague,” Bede says. “Care to explain yourself?”

“Oi, have a little patience,” Hop grumbles, shoving a Poke Ball into Bede’s hand. You’re ruining the moment.”

Bede just shrugs, hitting the button with his thumb. In a glow of light the Pokemon materializes before him, and he can’t help but smile. “Is this for my team?” Bede asks as the Cottonee settles in his lap, flapping its tiny arms with contentment. “It will be a good addition to my Fairy-types. Thank you.”

Hop laughs, and Bede thinks it sounds oddly nervous. “Well, yeah, that’s part of it. But also, it just reminded me of you.”

“Reminded you how?”

“You know…” Hop gestures vaguely. “Whimsicott?”

“I don’t follow?”

He coughs. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re both kinda… fluffy. And you seemed so comfortable with my Dubwool, I thought, er…”

Bede snickers. “You thought you’d give me a Pokemon to use as a pillow? That’s very thoughtful of you, Hop, to think of my comfort like that. Perhaps on our next outing you will give me something to use as a blanket?”

“Oi, you can cut the sarcasm,” Hop says, reddening. “Besides, I — I didn’t think an Applin would suit your team,” Hop adds hurriedly.

“Applin?” Bede echoes.

Hop just waves him off. “A-anyway, I just thought — you know, a gift.”

It hits him, then: the significance of the symbolism. “Oh, Applin,” Bede echoes quietly. “As in, the tradition of… so, this is a romantic gesture.” 

Hop bites his lip but says nothing.

“Thank you, Hop,” Bede says, and his voice sounds so fragile in his own ears. “I… I’ll raise him well. I promise.” He doesn’t have to force a smile; one rises to his lips naturally. “Oh, what’s that, little Cottonee? You see something in the sky?”

“Huh?” Hop turns to face the stars. “What are you —”

The sky bursts into a sea of glitter.

One after another, the fireworks illuminate the horizon, casting colorful light on the hills below them, and Hop just watches in stunned silence, each flash reflected in his gold eyes. Bede wonders if he’d overdone it, putting on such an ostentatious show on what is arguably their first real, agreed-upon date; and yet, what else was Bede — trained in Opal's theater to put on a show no matter what — supposed to do? Well, even if Hop doesn’t like the gesture, he’ll have to thank Milo later for getting his Gym Trainers to lend a hand to his surprise, as well as report back to Bea who had willingly listened to him anguish over his plans beforehand —

Hop clears his throat. 

“Did you plan this?” he croaks. “Even now you gotta one-up me, huh?”

Bede flushes. “It’s all part of my Fairy-type magic,” he says with none of the bravado he normally musters during his Gym Challenges. “You blink and suddenly incredible, mystical things are happening. A true pink, to reach the hearts of many.” A cough. “...Yeah, I planned this,” he finishes lamely.

Hop laughs. “Nice monologue. Miss Opal sure did teach you how to be wacky, huh?” Before Bede can snap back a retort, Hop continues more gently. “It’s beautiful. And completely unexpected. I’ve never had someone put on a fireworks show for me before. You’re really… something special, Bede.”

“O-of course,” Bede croaks, too quickly, and his voice cracks. “I’ve spent years perfecting my flair. You should feel lucky you even get to witness it.”

Hop leans up against him suddenly, and Bede swallows his own pompous words. “It’s not about the flair — way to miss the point, smartass. It’s just about… you. I’m just glad I got to really know you, that’s all.”

Bede exhales a shaky, nervous laugh. “How ineloquent of you. But I suppose I feel the same. Thank you… for giving me that chance.”

“Bede,” Hop says, too seriously for comfort, “you know if you need anything, I’ll be here for you, for real. You don’t have to put on a show like you do in public. Just remember that, okay?”

He’s not sure if he likes Hop’s analysis of him; it hits a little too close to home, and he can’t honestly deny it. The swoop of anxiety is there but only lasts a moment, dissolved by Hop’s genuine encouragement. Bede still can’t quite bring himself to let his guard down fully, but he can feel it happening bit by bit, glacial but terrifying all the same. “Are you sure you don’t want to change career paths again and become a therapist instead of a Pokemon Professor?”

“Thanks but no thanks,” Hop teases. “I already have my hands full with you.”

“Don’t take that the wrong way. There’s no need to become my therapist. Just… my friend.”

_“Just_ your friend?” Hop tilts his head to one side, coy. “Is that really all you want from me?”

Bede sighs. “You’re pushing your luck. Silence yourself before I become irritated.”

“What are you gonna do, hex me with your Fairy magic?”

He clears his throat. “Some Professor you are. The proper terminology would be ‘dazzle you.’ _Hex_ is a term better reserved for a Ghost-type specialist such as Allister.”

Hop shoves Bede’s shoulder gently with his own. “Bede, you’re so difficult.”

Illuminated by the fireworks finale glittering overhead, Bede laughs.

“Since when have I ever made your life easy?”

**Author's Note:**

> ~~This is arguably one of the worst paced things I've ever written and I'm going to post it as is anyway because it's 4 am and I've lost control of my life~~
> 
> [noonskytower](https://twitter.com/noonskytower) on twitter made this super cute art based off one of the ending scenes of this fic and it's honestly just so good, you can (and should) check it out [here!](https://twitter.com/noonskytower/status/1275207002944417792)


End file.
